Zhadra paid the fee and led his slave over to the stage. He was relieved he had not missed the initial display of all the slaves for sale. They were just being prodded onto the stage as they reached the front. There were all sizes, species, and sexes.
They were mostly captured creatures from war, but some also willingly sold themselves into slavery to escape debt or taxes. And some did so for the chance at fame in the gladiator arena. Zhadra looked them over but did not see any of the copper and silver skinned Bora-Obosians, much less, Khaiden, one of their princes.
As he turned to make his way from the front to the rear exit, several buyers made offers for Grace. It was ... annoying.
Zhadra ended up lifting one skeletal insect up by his bony neck to discourage his interest. As they left the auction market, he found a stall that sold garments and bought the first tunic he could find.
"Put this on." He hoped it hung like a sack.
Grace turned up her nose but grabbed the garment and threw it over her head. "Thank you."
He repositioned the rope and they hurried to the other side of the station. If Khaid had been for sale, he could have just purchased him and been on their way.
He didn't want the Vermian Station to realize the cargo ship in which they'd arrived was a Vermian vessel. That would bring questions that he did not wish to answer.
When they got to the arena, he spotted Calrhe, who signaled that he had spotted Khaiden. Thank the moons of Obos that he was alive and here. However, getting him out was going to require more than credits. He just knew it.
Khaid had sacrificed much to get Zhadra out of the hands of the Telosians years ago, and Zhadra would do all that was required to return the favor.
He and Grace did not sit by Calrhe. Obosians were not known to be slave keepers and he did not wish to attract further attention to their party. Instead, he headed toward the section where the Gladiator Masters sat.
"This mission sucks," Grace whispered.
He did not disagree. "If that means 'about to get worse', you are correct."
"Why?"
"We must bargain with the Gladiator Master for Khaid's freedom."
"Don't you have the credits?"
"I do, but he is likely to require more."
There was a pause before she spoke. "Like what?"
"Like an exotic slave."
Chapter Seven
If Zhadra lived, Grace was going to kill him.
He had been right. On top of a gargantuan sum of credits, there had been three conditions for Khaid's release.
Zhadra had to fight in one on one combat with an opponent of the master’s choice.
Grace had to kneel at the master’s feet during the match.
And, natch, she had to do it naked, like any good slave.
Zhadra's counter-demand had been slightly reassuring. His friend, Lord Khaiden, was sitting next to her watching the match.
Even though his presence was a slight comfort, the man looked like he was running on empty. He was a poster boy for dazed and confused.
One of Khaid's eyes was swollen shut and his copper and silver skin, which had the vaguest suggestion of dark stripes, was covered by a thicker than human layer of hair. Not exactly Chewbacca, but Cro-Magnon wasn't a stretch. And the coppery skin had kind of an unhealthy muted yellow tone, which she doubted was natural.
His head was covered with a multicolored heavy mane. The body beneath the hair was a mass of swelling and bruises.
Two fingers on his massive left hand were at unnatural angles. His right arm was hanging limp from a dislocated shoulder, and there were hundreds of deep cuts that were still oozing blood across his exposed abdomen.
Yep, she was the one on deck should any defense be called for in their immediate future.
However, when the Vermian master behind her kicked Khaid in the head, Khaid opened his one good eye and flashed the longest canines she had seen on anyone, including tigers. Long, black claws emerged for a brief second, and his low growl was strong enough to rumble through the floor where she knelt. The Vermian Master quickly moved his foot back out of reach. Smart.
Okay, then. Reassessment. Even sick and injured, Khaid would man up and be a kick ass fight partner. She began to wonder how the Vermians had captured such a man.
Of course, the obstacles to any escape action weren't their biggest problem.
The biggest problem was the ten foot, six-hundred-pound dragon who had just lumbered into the arena. The blue jeweled monster swished his huge spiked tail nearly into the crowd on either side.
If the smoke from its nostrils was any sign, it was going to be able to go flame thrower on command. She didn't see how Zhadra was supposed to defeat the thing.
When Zhadra entered the arena from the other end, though, Grace sucked in her breath. He wore nothing but a black loin cloth and carried only a sword and a long chain half wrapped about his chest and waist. His claws and teeth were on display, and his horns, which had been lovely to touch, suddenly looked dangerous.
There were swirls of gray and silver and even gold on his skin and they highlighted every contour. His chest was broad, and his legs were muscular and strong. He was magnificent.
She had not seen this much of him naked yet -- and, jeez, that yet was a sorry indication of where her hormones were taking her brain.
Her brain was clanging bing bing bing - sitting naked at the feet of a lizard alien slaver, Grace. But her hormones kept interrupting the danger signal with images of that hot, silver, big body of a man wrapped all around her. She whimpered softly and noted Khaid's one green eye turn toward her.
Grace shook her head and focused on a third guy who took the field and looked like their lizard version of a referee. He was wisely in the far corner. He raised a red cloth, waited dramatically, then dropped it one nanosecond before he scurried back into the stands. The action began.
The sapphire dragon immediately breathed out a stream of fire toward Zhadra. Instead of backing away, Zhadra ran forward. He ducked beneath the flame. His right hand jabbed the sword into one of the dragon’s front legs. The crowd roared at first blood.
Zhadra darted out to the side of the dragon's back legs. The crowd sucked in their breath. The dragon's massive tail swung and made contact. Zhadra flew into the air but rolled to his feet on impact. None of the tail spikes had hit him.
He immediately turned to face the dragon. The dragon again breathed fire, and Zhadra tried the same maneuver. This time, his leg was burned as he shot beneath the flames. But the dragon roared in pain when Zhadra raked his claws along the dragon's other front leg.
Grace was astounded by Zhadra's speed, grace, and power. The pounding of her pulse told her she was scared and excited, in oh so many ways.
Zhadra rolled to the side between the dragon’s legs. The dragon's tail sailed over Z's head. There was a tremendous impact as its tail hit the stands of the arena.
Several spectators flew into the air and landed on others. The crowd laughed in hisses and roars.
The dragon suddenly twisted his neck down to take a bite out of Zhadra. Zhadra leaped over the dragon's head and smacked its snout with his sword as he crossed over. The crowd again roared its approval. After a few more runs at the dragon, Grace was ready for this to be over.
It seemed Zhadra was on the same page. He unwound the chain from his chest and waist and twirled it above his head.
His first attempt to lasso the dragon's neck failed. On the next attempt, the chain wrapped around tightly. Zhadra climbed up to the creature's back using the chain and held his sword at the dragon's neck.
He looked up at the gladiator master, who granted the match to Zhadra, but also spared the life of the dragon.
Grace blew out a breath of relief at his safety but the slight breathlessness of wanting didn't go away. The intelligent, stubborn, and humorous cage buddy was a man like no other. And she wanted his raw physicality.
Zhadra leaned close to the dragon's ear and spoke before he climbed down the
chain and released the dragon from its hold. He bowed to the master and then to the crowd and left the arena.
Within moments, he was back in his pants, boots, and open vest and arrived at the master's space. He took Grace's rope and nodded to Khaiden.
The master held up a hand. "Why don't you stay the moon span, Obosian? The crowd enjoys your skill."
"I fulfilled my part of our bargain, Vermian."
The Vermian's blue tongue swirled wetly around his snout. "I believe another of your kind is on his way here. Unusual to have an Obosian sign up for the gladiator ring. A relative, perhaps?"
"Perhaps some poor soul from the southern desert. I will have to talk some sense into the man."
"You may get your chance. I understand he is aboard the Kruvon and it has docked."
"Excellent. I will be sure to look in on him before I board my ship."
The Master sat further upright. "Your ship?"
Grace could have sworn that the guy looked intimidated. Go, Zhadra. Keep spinning that tale.
"Yes. Now I will take my cargo and go. Entertaining you with stories of my travels was not part of our agreement."
"Then I will have my men escort you to this ship of yours."
"But of course."
Calrhe and Keri joined their party. Grace hoped that the five of them could lose the eight man 'honor guard' who enclosed their group as they headed to the docking bay.
As far as she knew, they were on their way to the Vermian ship, Kruvon. The one with all those dead and unconscious Vermian pirates on board.
Chapter Eight
Zhadra led his group along with the reptilian guards to the docks where his fleet's ship should have docked by now. The Battleship Cyclone could out gun and out run any vessel in the Sigma galaxy. And she would. But they had to get safely on board first.
They had one more hurdle before they could escape. They had to stop at the Vermian pirate ship, Kruvon, on the way to freedom.
They had left friendlies on board. There was the third human female, Tina, as well as the four other prisoners from nearby planets who had been taken by the Vermians against their will.
When they reached the pirate ship, Keri stepped forward in her hooded priestess robe and silently indicated her desire to board. Calrhe, as attendant to Keri's 'priestess' persona, boarded with her, carrying a large bundle in his arms.
The various species of their worlds did not agree on much, but in general, they respected their respective religious figures. Some of the most revered were the Obosian Shadowed Ones, priestesses of Qala, Goddess of Tranquility.
Of course, one never knew how Vermians would behave. They were some of the least respected species in all the planets, especially since their main industry was slavery.
The seconds trickled by while Zhadra, Grace, and Khaiden waited with the Vermian guard, who grumbled among themselves. The delay was not good.
The lull in time allowed him to focus on the pain from his burned leg. And to inhale Grace's scent. He had all he could do not to tilt his head back, bare his teeth in a grimace, and suck in her essence.
Fortunately, the priestess emerged with a procession of five robed figures behind her, and the entire group began to march further down the docks toward the Cyclone.
"Stop." The head Vermian guard shouted his command. "Who have you removed from the Kruvon? I demand to inspect them."
Zhadra stepped close so that they were nearly chest to chest. "I have promised safe passage to the Shadowed One and her attendants. I believe she purchased more servants from the ship's cargo, but I do not interfere with her business." His glowing eyes should convey the rest. And neither should you, reptile.
Zhadra turned, pulling Grace behind him, and the party again traveled toward his battle cruiser. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the guard captain detached four men from his unit and sent them to board the Vermian ship. He shot a glance to Calrhe.
"I disabled the door. But they will access it within ninety seconds."
Once aboard the Cyclone, Zhadra told its Captain, "Depart immediately. Cruuk getting permission."
He turned to Grace, but now allowed himself to favor his burned leg since he was out of sight of the enemy. She might as well learn now. He wasn't perfect. Far from it.
Dropping the rope that bound Grace's wrists, he helped her remove the bindings and rubbed the marks on her wrists. "Thank you, Warrior."
"Never mind that, Zhadra. Get us out of here." She helped the others to secure themselves for a bumpy ride and returned to his side with a pistol. "Will they be able to board us?"
"Do not worry, Grace."
"Admiral," the captain said. "We are moving toward the station doors, but they remain closed."
"Did he say Admiral?" Grace asked.
Zhadra stalked to the weapons officer. "Prepare the bow short-range photon phaser. On my mark, target starboard departure doors, half astro-span radius."
The ship shuddered as it began to receive incoming plasma cannon fire from the Vermian space station. The doors loomed ahead as the ship developed speed.
"Fire!" Zhadra roared above the din.
The center of the doors blocking their departure suddenly evaporated. Fragments peppered the Cyclone as she shot through the breach.
Within moments, the ship reached open space and disappeared into an asteroid sheet. When they settled near a nebula super cluster, everyone disengaged from their security harnesses.
Zhadra limped over to a pretty sickly Khaiden. The man's usually vibrant copper and silver skin was dull and almost yellow green in color. Khaid's eye, the one not swollen shut, looked unfocused. "You will be well, my friend."
Khaid's gaze sharpened for a mere moment. "Z. You came."
"Always, my friend." Zhadra called Calrhe over. "Get him to medical. I will join him when I can."
He watched three men practically carry Khaid off the bridge. He'd seen his friend hurt plenty of times. He'd even pounded the man in the training arena more than once himself. But this was something different, and he just hoped the healers could discover the problem.
Zhadra refocused on the bridge and grabbed a nearby steward. "Arrange quarters for our guests." He motioned to Grace, who walked closer. "And lead Commander Summers to my quarters."
"But -- " Grace began.
"No arguing. Our guest quarters are limited, and you and I have unfinished business."
"I do have one question. Admiral." She raised an eyebrow. "What is our destination?"
Chapter Nine
Grace checked in with Keri and Tina. Tina was on a berth in the medical bay with some kind of apparatus around her head. She still looked on the green side, which gave an interesting tint to the Asian features of the little scientist.
Tina wrinkled her nose. "They tell me I have a slow bleed around my brain, and that's why I have the headache from hell." She crossed her eyes to study the apparatus circling her head. "This is supposed to seal the leak and cut the swelling, and I have to admit, it already feels better."
Khaiden was in the next berth and two Obosian medics were working on his shoulder, fingers and abdomen. Khaid drifted in and out of consciousness, but any time his eyes opened, he focused on Tina.
Grace looked at Keri. "Apparently, our destination is Zhadra's home planet of Obos. You good with that?"
Keri nodded, her spiky red hair still wet with sweat from all those hours under the priestess robe. "The Planetary Union wanted us to explore the universe. I say go for it. Besides, what are our other options?"
"All right." Grace pulled at the smelly tunic she had donned on the lizard station. "I'm off to burn this and to have a shower."
Keri touched her arm. "Be careful, Grace."
Grace had a feeling her captain wasn't talking about any threat to her safety. "Hey. I'm a big girl."
"Uh huh." Keri looked unconvinced.
Grace mulled it over as she headed down the corridor to Zhadra's quarters. It's not as if she hadn't had a short-term fling or
two. Okay, exactly two. They ended amicably as she and her partner moved on and upward in their careers.
Grace would never follow her mother's path. Her mom had allowed her father to push her out of the service, and then he'd gone on to divorce her and leave her on earth with two kids to raise on her own. Of course, according to Mom, who was an awesome instructor in martial arts, she'd been happy with the outcome, her work, and her kids.
Career had been everything to Grace, but that road to success had developed some serious potholes. She'd spent the past year fighting her banishment to the Defiance, but she was beginning to wonder if fate was trying to hit her upside the head so she could recalibrate.
Did she really want to continue with CPU?
The organization had effectively sidelined her to the Defiance for testifying in defense of a young ensign. Said ensign had accused a flag officer of rape, and since Grace had experienced her own close call with the bastard, she was happy to speak out.
Grace sucked at keeping a low profile.
But enough of that. She was tired and sore and had been more than slightly stressed this past week.
Now she was going to have a brief fling with the first man to tempt her in a very long time. Maybe tempt her more than anyone else ever had. There had been a smolder of heat present ever since she'd laid eyes on him in the Vermian cage and she was tired of ignoring something she wanted very badly.
The Admiral's cabin was huge, pristine, but impersonal. And the fact she was in an Admiral's cabin no longer surprised her.
She wanted to slap her forehead. Of course, the man was more than a loser fellow prisoner. How could she have missed it? He had the necessary qualities: arrogance, confidence, and competence.
She thought of the dragon. Really, really competent.
The waste disposal unit gobbled up the smelly tunic and it wasn't hard to figure out the cleansing unit. The warm mist felt incredible on her sore body.
Zhadra Page 3