Snatched

by Vijaya Schartz

  Svend laughed, revealing perfect white teeth. "It can be love if you want it to be..." He circled her like a wolf, or a big cat stalking his prey. "Sooner or later, you’ll give in, though. We can’t escape our urges and feelings. That’s why we are here... We are not like them."

  "Them?" Zania turned to face him as he circled her. "What are they?"

  "Eunuchs, sexless shadows devoid of emotions trying to escape their gray lives. Who cares?" He flashed a wolfish grin. "They find their thrills vicariously through rare specimens like us."

  Zania wondered how rare.

  "We are the highest ranking slaves." Svend moved closer. "The sex champions of this new era. Come on. Don’t deny yourself. You can’t resist me forever. I am the best at what I do."

  The best at sex? What arrogance! Zania’s warring instincts took over. She’d never been a victim, and no man would ever force himself upon her, not even a gorgeous Viking. And certainly not in public, for the titillation of some sick degenerates. "How can you accept slavery so easily?"

  Svend winked. "It’s not so bad. I get all the pretty girls."

  "I’ll never submit to this." Zania balanced herself on both feet and bent her knees in a defensive stance, wishing she had better suited battle gear. At least the short flowing veils wouldn’t impede her legs. "If you come any closer, you’ll regret it."

  Ignoring her threat, Svend took a step forward. He didn’t look one bit afraid. "If you fight back, they’ll switch you from sex games to combat to the death. They have those as well, and, believe me, they are less pleasurable."

  Zania struggled to grasp his meaning. But she wouldn’t be intimidated. "At least, in a fight, I make my own destiny. Prepare to suffer, Svend." Zania spit the name with disgust. She hated him for being subservient. And she would never let anyone control her.

  But as she faced him, Zania realized that her muscles lacked conditioning. If she’d slept that long and hadn’t trained... She only hoped her determination would make up for her diminished strength.

  Svend dodged her drop-kick to the face with uncanny agility. So, he could fight, too. All those muscles weren’t just for show. And he looked like he’d been to the gym every day of his life. The vision of Svend working out brought heat to Zania’s cheeks. Such physical perfection and rare beauty. But no man would ever impose his will on Zania.

  She kicked to the ribs. Svend sidestepped and averted the kick. She somersaulted and landed behind him then leapt on his back. Grabbing hold of his neck, she squeezed in a sleeper hold.

  His long flaxen hair caressed her face as she scissored his chest with bare legs. She could have kicked his crotch or pulled out his hair, but for some strange reason, she wanted to fight fair.

  Svend shook her off and threw her over his head then pinned her to the mat as if she weighed nothing. Her flimsy dress bunched up around her waist and a slight breezed on her bare skin made her feel naked. Around them, the crowd cheered and stomped in cadence, chanting Svend’s name, probably hoping for some naughty action.

  But they would be disappointed. Although the temptation of giving in crossed her mind, Zania wouldn’t submit. Arching against his weight, slick as an eel, she wormed her way from under his body and quickly jumped on him as he rolled over. Just the way she liked it, on top and in control.

  Up in the bleachers, the divided crowd protested or cheered. Had Zania seen currency changing hands? Of course, they would be taking bets. Pigs!

  Had Svend just smiled? Something didn’t feel right. Zania’s distraction cost her the advantage. Svend escaped her grip, rolled away, then he rose to face her again.

  *****

  Svend had never seen a woman with such fire in her veins, not even Dakini. Zania reminded him of the goddess Freya, or the legendary Valkyries, the angels of death of his native land who led the fallen warriors to the pleasures of Valhalla.

  Obviously new to the games, this feisty girl wouldn’t last long if she didn’t play by the rules. This little rebellion would cost her life, unless she could demonstrate true talent as a warrior and vanquish the best of them. And, as the very best, Svend stood undefeated.

  The crowd didn’t seem to mind Zania’s defiance. They liked a good fight as much as a good sex show. Given Svend’s reputation, they probably hoped it would end up in mating anyway. But there would be retribution from the sponsors. They didn’t take kindly to insubordination.

  If Svend vanquished Zania, their masters would throw the rebellious girl to the beasts. Svend could use such fighting spirit in his team. He couldn’t let her die. But in order to save her life, he’d have to swallow his pride and let her win.

  In reprisal, Svend would probably lose his privileged status as stud champion. They’d send him back to the fighting arena for another year, not that he planned to remain in captivity that long. But at least, he could live with his conscience, having found a new recruit for the cause.

  Zania now circled him, her deep blue stare unwavering. He wanted to tell her of his plan, but unlike him, she was probably tagged. If her owners read her thoughts, they both could end up as cat meat.

  The rare beauty seemed schooled in fighting. She used unusual techniques, but she lacked speed and strength. With good training, as long as she didn’t end up against him in formal armed combat, she’d stand a chance to survive, at least for a while. She would have to learn fast. The faster, the better.

  Without making it obvious, Svend pulled his punches and slowed his moves just enough to give Zania a chance to get to him. He intentionally failed to avoid a kick to the face, and another to the ribs. He made it look as if her blows hurt him more than they did.

  When Svend opened his defenses and let Zania into his safe zone, she surprised him with a quick, unexpected move. A technique he’d never seen before. He failed to duck and dropped hard on the mat. It hurt.

  Sensing his chance to make it look believable, Svend remained down, pretending a knockout. Zania then sat on his chest, raising her arms in victory as the crowd cheered. Wasn’t she the little show-off? Svend hated to lose, even more to a girl, but it was the right thing to do. Besides, she would fit right in with the Freedom warriors.

  As Zania seemed to enjoy her victory, the heady perfume of her long hair threatened to overwhelm Svend. He could feel the warm skin of her thighs against his mid section and struggled to control his erection. He had to pretend to be out cold, or both of them would surely die. He hoped she wouldn’t finish him off if the crowd asked for it. Somehow, he trusted her integrity. She didn’t seem the type to do as she was told.

  Slowing his breathing, Svend sent his mind into a deep meditative state, where he could hear or feel no more.

  Chapter Two

  A painful zing of electricity from the guard’s sticks prodded Zania into the corridor. She stumbled forward, trying to keep up with the two other guards in gray leather armor in front of her. Exhausted by the fight, she wanted to slow down, but the guard behind her, brandished his stick in warning.

  "You shouldn’t have angered our sponsors." The synthetic voice bounced from the Cerulean walls.

  "Shut up!" Zania tried to remember the path so she might escape, but the corridors behind her disappeared each time they made a turn. Strange...

  "As you wish."

  At the prime of her shape, Zania could probably have taken the three guards by herself, but she had no energy left. Sleeping for thirteen hundred years had wreaked havoc on her stamina. She seriously needed to get in shape.

  At the end of the corridor, a solid metal door slid open as she neared it. The guards stopped on each side and prodded Zania forward. Under the electric jolt, she jumped rather than walked across the threshold. As she rubbed the sore spot on her naked thigh, the heavy door closed quietly behind her.

  This room looked very different from the previous blue cell, more physical, solid, with molded blocs of colored metal, probably furniture of some kind, and consoles melded to the floor. Metal art decorated the walls, but what stole her breath was th
e view.

  An entire clear wall, like a picture window, revealed an unobstructed spectacle... a blue-green planet, suspended in space, surrounded by a belt of satellites. Zania was on a spaceship! That explained the strange vibration. Civilization had come a long way over the last millennium. Zania couldn’t help but stare, riveted.

  Despite some cloud cover, she could discern familiar continents. Her throat tightened and hot tears blurred her vision. It was really Earth. It didn’t look like the Earth of her childhood, parched and bare, covered with ochre and Sienna deserts. Here, North America was lush with emerald forests, surrounded by deep blue oceans, and streaked by wide rivers. The planet had a clean, pure atmosphere devoid of sandstorms and pollution haze. "How beautiful!"

  Zania felt so small, so isolated. She wanted to be on the surface. But if this was her new cell, at least she loved the view.

  "Not your cell, silly girl, but Our chamber." The masculine voice came from behind her.

  Zania turned to face a pudgy little man sitting cross-legged on a hard-looking bench. His long burgundy robe, trimmed with gold, contrasted with the pale, lined face. But at least, one of Zania’s captors had a face, and he looked quite human.

  "When you say our chamber..." Zania hoped she wouldn’t have to bunk with the old coot, or worse, share his bed. How disgusting! Did he use the We as the computer did? Then she realized, "You can read my mind?" So it wasn’t just the computer...

  "We do." The man looked well groomed, with slick gray hair combed neatly back. "And We are displeased." He rose and paced the room, exhibiting a slight limp.

  Zania figured she could take him on easily, even in her exhausted state.

  The little man’s gray brow shot up. "No. You cannot."

  Oops! Zania would have to learn to control her thoughts. She noticed a flare of shimmering radiance, an energy field enveloping the man like an egg. She had enough electric shocks from the prods of the guards, so she kept her distance. "Who are you? Why am I here?"

  "We are the Collectors, and We brought you to this world." His tone remained cold, and the thin mouth pouted. "You failed the first test."

  What kind of place viewed victory as failure? "Your audience had a good show. I won against your sex god. The crowd seemed pleased."

  "That champion is no god and will be punished." The Collector seemed upset. "Do not anger the true gods with blasphemy, child, We need their blessings." His gods seemed important to him.

  Zania, too, revered her gods. "Sorry." Did he really call her child? "I’m twenty-three, hardly a child."

  "If you say so," he sneered. "As a female, however, you were expected to submit."

  Zania couldn’t accept such barbaric ideas. "Where I come from, females are the equal of men. They choose their partners."

  "Truly? That is unfortunate." The Collector turned away from her and consulted a small handheld device that lit up and chirped as he pressed the keys feverishly. When he faced her again, his eyes rounded in surprise. "How could We have made such a mistake?" He stored the device in a fold of his robe and cleared his throat, averting his gaze. "In any case, a spectator complained to the authorities of the planet. You see... such games are illegal in these parts."

  "You mean on this Earth?"

  He motioned with his chin toward the blue planet. "They can’t shut us down as We operate in interplanetary space, but We received a stiff fine for selling illicit entertainment to their citizens. And We must pay or lose our trading licence." His shoulders dropped in disappointment. "Now, We have no other choice but to sell you to the highest bidder to raise the necessary credits."

  "I’m not your property!" Zania’s voice rose, but she couldn’t help it. "What are you? A slaver? Is human trafficking legal in these parts?" She purposely mimicked his syntax.

  "What’s legal in one region of the galaxy may be illegal in other sectors. The rules also change with time. Different generations, different rules..." He sighed, visibly annoyed. "And yes, unlike the free citizens of this planet, you are our property. We gave you life, and We legally own your property title."

  The memory of the ambush in the dunes came back to Zania. She had been facing certain death when she was collected. If not for her captors, she would have died long ago. She felt grateful, but not that grateful.

  "So, because you gave me another chance at life, you think you own me?"

  "Something like that." His face closed up as if he didn’t want to say more.

  "Listen, I’m thankful and all that, but I can’t accept this kind of existence." Despite the panic threatening to overwhelm her, Zania kept her voice steady. "You have to let me go."

  "Go where?" The little man shook his head. "There is no place for you to go. Besides, you are too valuable."

  "Can’t we make a deal? There must be some other way we can come to an agreement that will satisfy both of us." Zania had no idea what she could trade, but she could be creative. "I could work to pay back my medical expenses..."

  "Sorry, Zania. We only deal in immediate profit. And our only chance for profit in your case, is to sell you as a fighter. Since you defeated a champion, your price just went up."

  "Perfect!" Zania felt like a child unhappy with her parents, helpless to control her life, and she hated the feeling.

  The Collector gave her a lecherous glance that made her feel cheap. "It’s a shame, though. After We went through the expense of making you so attractive, you’ll just end up as fight meat. What a waste." He cocked his head. "Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?"

  "I will never submit." Zania’s tone dripped with loathing. Did he expect her to feel sympathetic? She’d rather die fighting than... "And what happens if I refuse to fight?"

  The little man shrugged. "Once sold, you are not our problem anymore. But don’t fool yourself. No more privileged quarters or comfort for you. You’ll have to suffer and fight to remain alive, and your new masters will deal just as swiftly with insubordination as We do."

  "Meaning?"

  "If you refuse to fight, you die," he said, matter-of-fact. "Had you not miraculously won against an undefeated champion, We would have fed you to the beasts in tat very ring. At least, there is some profit in that."

  Zania shuddered at the thought. "Beasts?"

  "Tigers, jaguars, pumas, panthers... big, mean, starving felines, genetically altered for bloodshed." He stared at her in wonder. "We still can’t believe you defeated our best fighter. Of course, We didn’t realize you’d been collected as a warrior sample, not a sex slave."

  It dawned on Zania that she may not have won her fight fair and square. After demonstrating superior fighting abilities, Svend had become sloppy, let down his defenses although he didn’t seem tired or winded. The memory of his superb body brought unexpected heat to her core.

  He’d gone down easy. Too easy. Had he let her win on purpose to spare her life? Did he know she would face the beasts otherwise? Zania suddenly felt foolish. Hot shame rushed to her cheeks.

  "Did you throw him to the beasts?"

  The Collector chuckled dryly. "Not him, he is too valuable for many reasons. But he will get punished."

  So, that was it. Svend humiliated himself in order to save her. And now, he would suffer for losing the fight. This wasn’t fair. To think that she’d paraded around the arena, her arms raised in the V of victory...

  Still staring at her, the little man narrowed his dark eyes. "Ah! That makes more sense. So, Svend let you win?" He burst into unexpected mirth. "We’ll just pretend We didn’t learn that. Killing you now would cut into our profit, as little as it is."

  Zania suddenly realized she’d betrayed Svend in her mind and the guilt stung. "That’s all you care about? Profit?"

  "That’s the only tangible reality." The little man offered a strained smile. "You better train hard, Zania. Where you are going, no one will let you win. In every fight, the loser must die." He waved and the door opened. The three gray guards entered and framed Zania.

  Tempted to bolt,
Zania thought better of it at the sight of the prods. She barely resisted when a guard pulled her hands roughly together in front of her and shackled her in cold metal cuffs. "Where am I going?" Zania asked as the guards pushed her toward the door.

  "You’ll see." The pudgy Collector shook his head. "Such a waste."

  The guards led Zania into the hallway, but for some reason it wasn’t blue anymore, just bare metal, dull and hard. As she marched ahead, weary of the prods, the boots of the guards echoed ominously through the corridor.

  *****

  When Zania entered a vast bay, the guards led her toward a small transport, sitting among an array of larger crafts. From the outside, the triangular vessel looked like a wreck. Zania hoped they wouldn’t have to go far in that rickety contraption. Probably a shuttle between ships. The guards boarded with her and buckled her to a seat near a porthole. They chained her shackles to a loop in the floor then sat, surrounding her.

  When the shuttle ejected into space, Zania stared out the porthole, fascinated. Never had she seen so many stars. The craft veered, and she recognized the behemoth they were leaving, the same satiny gray vessel she’d seen over the dunes during the ambush with the sand demons.

  To think of it, it couldn’t be the same vessel, not if she’d been on life support for over a millennium. Or could it? The strange feeling that the Collectors might be traveling through time as well as space nagged at the edge of Zania’s mind. She’d have to find out the extent of their amazing technology. Besides, knowledge might give her some means of escape.

  The small craft now headed straight for the planet. Zania’s heart raced. She so wanted to be on Earth, even in a different universe. It seemed she would have her wish.

  From her seat, Zania could see the backs of the pilots in the next compartment. Both males. They paid her no attention. Nor did the guards, for that matter. Svend had called them Eunuchs, sexless, bored citizens. Given the suggestive dress she wore, and the fact that she was all dolled up, back home the men would have noticed her. But not here.