by Robyn Bachar
“What?” The other female blinked.
“Escape pods. Now, damn you,” Bryn snapped. “Before we all burn to death.”
That sent the minion scurrying off. Bryn hoped Ama helped the other girls, but she was most concerned with Sabine’s safety. Sabine was the only thing in her life that mattered.
She ran to the room they shared and keyed open the door. Sabine was stretched out across the bottom bunk, asleep despite the noise. The bed sheet draped across her was drenched with sweat and clinging to her lush violet curves. Bryn shook her mate’s shoulder.
“Wake up, a’gra. It’s time to go.”
Sabine sighed but didn’t wake. Bryn frowned and shook her again. She opened one of Sabine’s eyes and found her golden gaze unfocused, and Bryn’s breath caught as worry gripped her throat. The master had sedated Sabine again. Sabine had been in phase for over a year, consumed by the need to take a male mate, but the master wouldn’t allow it. The bastard said she performed better this way, and Sabine’s mind had begun to crack under the unrelenting pressure of the phase hormones. When the strain became too much he drugged her to keep her quiet. Bryn should’ve killed him…
She brushed a tender kiss on Sabine’s brow, wrapped the sheet around her and then picked up her up. Sabine was a little thing compared to Bryn—Sabine was soft and petite where Bryn was tall, broad and muscled. Bryn carried her into the hallway, and then scowled at the sight of Ama and the rest of the girls standing around, panicked.
“I said get to the escape pods!” Bryn barked.
“We don’t know where they are,” Ama said.
Of course they didn’t. Most of the girls were born slaves, and, unlike Bryn, weren’t constantly plotting to run. Taking charge of over a dozen naked females wouldn’t make for a simple escape, especially with Sabine to look after, but she couldn’t leave them. Her shadow sword’s sense of honor wouldn’t allow her to abandon the others. Bryn had no problem giving orders, but she prayed that they weren’t too frightened to listen.
“Follow me,” Bryn said.
Deciding against parading the girls through the main decks of the station, Bryn led them to the crew access corridors. She ordered Ama to open the door—Bryn’s arms were too full with Sabine to use the key card. The lock flashed green, and the girls followed her out and down the cramped, dingy hallway. The air was tinged with smoke, but instead of the tang of nic sticks, the ozone of burning wires stung her eyes.
The hallway shook with an explosion, and the lights flickered and died. A chorus of terrified screams sounded behind her, and the emergency lights came up, bathing everything in a dim yellow glow.
“This way.” Bryn kept her voice even, because someone had to remain calm. She’d survived firefights and duels, so leading a group of females to the escape pods should be simple in comparison.
“Where are we going?” Ama asked as they rounded a corner and approached another door.
“Escape pods—lifeboats,” she corrected. Jump stations had lifeboats to support more survivors than a ship’s small escape pods. “Under the gamma docking ring. Two corridors over, two decks down.”
Ama hit the next door, but it whooshed open and revealed a wall of fire on the other side. The girls screamed again, and Ama slapped the door shut. Bryn cursed and frantically tried to plan an alternate route. With this corridor blocked there was no avoiding a march across the market deck, where anyone could stop them. She needed her hands free if she had to defend them.
“What do we do?” one of the girls shrieked, and Bryn shushed her.
She set Sabine down and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, a’gra.” Bryn tilted her lover’s head and bit her throat. A Cy’ren’s bite was pleasurable under normal circumstances, but for a female in phase it was almost instantly orgasmic. Sabine’s eyes flew open and she threw her arms around Bryn’s neck, clinging to her with an eager moan. “Not here,” Bryn said as her face heated. “Once we’re free, we can celebrate. Now I need you to come with me. Okay?”
Sabine nodded, though her golden eyes were clouded with lust and drugs. Bryn took her hand and led Sabine away. She stumbled, but she was awake enough to walk.
After liberating the key card from Ama, Bryn opened an access hatch and the group emerged into the heart of the market. The deck was shadowed in the weak emergency lights, and the alarms blared loudest here, almost deafening. People ran scared in every direction—the situation had to be dire to cause such chaos in a jump station market. Despite being in U-space, jump stations were as obsessed with commerce as the Syndicate systems.
Bryn paused and looked back. “Keep close.”
Her charges nodded, eyes wide.
Bryn hadn’t been outside of the brothel since her arrival on the station, so nothing looked familiar. The girls weren’t allowed out. Their entire lives were lived between the kitchen, the lavatory, their quarters and the pleasure rooms. That hadn’t stopped her from stealing a data pad from a client, accessing the station’s layout and memorizing it. It helped to pass the time. The days blurred together, though as much as she tried she had never managed to completely lose track. Bryn marked the passage of her days as a slave as it marched ever onward—five years, three months and six days, with the last two and a half years lived as a whore.
She faltered at the sound of laser fire. Not close, but it was enough to worry her. Why was the station under attack? Had war broken out between the Alliance and the Syndicate? It was about damn time, but it didn’t seem likely that either side would choose a jump station as a battleground. They would capture the station to utilize its resources and location, not destroy it, and whoever was pummeling the place with cannon fire wasn’t pulling any punches.
Bryn nearly tripped over a corpse, and she stopped as she realized it was a Cy’ren shadow sword. “Wait,” she said. She held up a hand for the girls to stop as she knelt over the body.
The male bore the marks of House Nightfall, the wealthiest house of the Cy’ren ruling council—too bad Nightfall hadn’t bought him a helmet, because then he’d still be alive. He could have been a mercenary, or a member of the Cy’ren resistance. The resistance had no reason to attack the station—their mission was to liberate slaves, not blow them up.
Dead men didn’t need weapons, so Bryn stripped him of his belt and pried the sword from his grasp. She strapped the belt on over her stolen jacket and reveled in the security of a blade in her hand. Dear gods, she’d missed it.
The sounds of battle came closer, and she growled. “This way!”
Bryn herded the girls into the shelter of a nearby market stall that sold spare engine parts that had been abandoned in the chaos. Everyone crouched down and she motioned for silence. She frowned at the scene that played out before her. Cy’ren fighting other Cy’ren. Mercenaries? Many runners were mercs—Bryn would’ve become one if she’d gotten far enough in her escape attempts, and sold her combat skills until she made enough to buy passage home. The houses weren’t allowed to fight each other anymore thanks to the peace accords that formed the resistance, so it couldn’t be inter-house warfare. Maybe a slaver squabble. They were callous enough not to care who was caught in their crossfire. Cy’ren had been selling each other into slavery long before off-worlders got involved with the trade.
Another male and a handful of humans rushed past their hiding place, pursued by three more Cy’ren males. Bryn thought she recognized one of the humans in the first group—Malcolm, a regular client. He was painfully shy and quiet, and didn’t seem the type to be chased by mercs through a burning space station.
Bryn waited until the danger passed, and then started the group moving again. The way was clear to the lifeboats, but as they entered the final corridor Bryn spotted two armed men guarding the hatches. The corridor was littered with the bodies scored by laser burns, and the men turned and raised their weapons. Bryn dodged in front of Sabine and took a blast that clipped her hip.
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“Get down,” Bryn said.
Bryn charged her attackers with a battle cry. They were humans, and Bryn was still a Cy’ren shadow sword. Even wounded she was faster, and her newfound blade fit her hand as well as if it had been her own weapon. The men fell as she slashed through the weak spots in their armor. Though she wished she had enough time to steal said armor, she looked for an open lifeboat hatch.
All the boats were gone.
She snarled a string of Cy’reni curses that made the girls shrink back—all except for Sabine, who stepped forward and caressed her face. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s just a graze. It’s the least of our problems.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“They kicked all the lifeboats. We can’t get off the station.”
The other girls squealed in terror, but Sabine was either too drugged or too sensible to panic. “Then we steal a ship,” she said matter-of-factly.
Bryn nodded, gritting her teeth against the pain as she debated plans of attack. They had the numbers to steal a ship, but these were slaves, not pirates, so they wouldn’t maintain control of a ship for very long. Unless they spaced the crew, but Bryn was the only soldier here, and she doubted the others had the stomach for that sort of murder, or the training necessary to operate a ship. They didn’t have money to pay for passage to a neutral world, but then again, she had yet to meet a male who wasn’t interested in flesh when faced with a naked Cy’ren. This might work.
“Delta docking ring is another level down.” Bryn picked up a pistol from one of the fallen slavers and clipped the matching holster to her belt. A rifle would have more punch, but she could hold a pistol in her off-hand while wielding the blade.
Sabine frowned. “I want a pistol.”
“No. Not until you can walk straight,” Bryn said. “Let’s go.”
The emergency lights flickered as they hurried to the docking ring, and Bryn prayed that the power stayed on. If the emergency power failed they’d have to manually override the doors, and that would slow them down. More pistol fire greeted them when they arrived, blocking their escape again. Bryn hunkered down and watched the battle while the girls huddled behind her.
“Who are they?” Sabine asked.
“Not the Alliance—too many Cy’ren. Might be a slaver fight.” Bryn turned, and her stomach knotted at the sight of Sabine. Her eyes were glazed with fever, and her violet skin glistened with sweat. “How are you?”
“I don’t feel well,” Sabine admitted.
Bryn kissed her. “I love you. It’ll be all right.”
Shrieks rose from the back of the group, and Bryn darted toward the noise. An armored figure stood near them, and Bryn rushed him. He raised a blade of his own and blocked her attack, and retreated a few steps.
“I won’t hurt you. I’m with the resistance.” His voice was mechanical, spoken from behind an armored helmet with the tinted visor down. Not a bad idea—the smoke was beginning to scratch her throat, and some of the girls were coughing.
“Prove it,” Bryn said.
He pulled his helmet off and hooked it at his belt, revealing a male Cy’ren. His white hair was mussed from being trapped beneath the helmet, and Bryn eyed the ink just barely visible at his throat against his charcoal skin—House Morningstar family marks but no slave marks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a Cy’ren without slave marks, but Morningstar was one of the top three houses on the ruling council. Must be nice to be important. For a moment relief sighed through her, but it was followed by a spike of fear. Sabine was in phase, and the male would know it the moment he caught her scent. If he was with the resistance, other males could be aboard his ship. They would take Sabine away from her, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. The thought of losing Sabine to a complete stranger tore a growl from Bryn’s throat.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“My ship can take all of you to Cyprena, but we have to hurry.”
“In exchange for what?”
“No price.”
“There’s always a price, Morningstar,” she snapped in reply.
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but for a moment she thought she saw his expression soften. “You all go free. You have my word.”
The deck rolled beneath their feet, and Bryn growled again with frustration. She had no choice but to trust him. “Go. I’ll bring up the rear. Ama, stick with him.”
Bryn hoped that Ama would distract the male long enough to keep Sabine at a safe distance. She grabbed her mate’s hand and tugged Sabine behind her, out of the male’s line of sight. The girls followed Ama, who followed the male. Whatever fighting had been going on had fallen silent as they entered the docking area. They filed through a hatch, and she paused just inside of it. Bryn locked eyes with the male—she was taller than the other girls and could see above their heads.
“Seal it,” he ordered.
She nodded, sheathed her sword and slapped the controls. “Aye, sir. Hatch sealed.”
The words were a reflex, and triggered a flood of memories of serving aboard the Sabre before her capture. Bryn had been an officer once. If they were truly going to be freed, maybe she could be one again.
The male punched a comm. panel next to the door. “Captain, this is Harrow. Hatch sealed. We’re clear.”
“Copy that,” a woman replied. Bryn quirked a brow—a female captain. Interesting.
She eyed their surroundings as they wound their way through the ship. It had the feel of an older transport—most resistance ships were modified transports that had been stripped down and rebuilt for a military life. Though judging by the state of the exposed wiring and missing panels, the ship had seen better days. The girls were herded into a large dormitory area where another group of Cy’ren waited. Bryn frantically looked over the group for other males, but it seemed comprised of older females, and she sighed in relief.
The male hit the comm. again. “Our new guests are secure.”
“Good. Get your ass to the bridge. I need you at your station.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The male—Harrow—turned to leave, and Bryn turned her attention to Sabine. Her mate was shaking, and the thin sheet wrapped around her was soaked with fresh sweat.
“I don’t feel well,” Sabine said again, and then she collapsed.
Bryn gasped and caught her before she hit the deck. Sabine’s skin burned with fever, and she radiated heat. Bryn held her close and murmured to her. Did the ship have a medic? Not that a medic could cure Sabine’s condition unless he happened to be a male Cy’ren, but her symptoms could be treated.
“Is your companion ill?” Harrow asked.
Bryn growled, clutching Sabine tighter as fear that he would take her stabbed her like a cold blade. “Get back!” she snapped.
He frowned. “I promise, I won’t hurt you. We have a doctor onboard.”
“Sabine’s not sick,” Ama spoke up.
“Shut up,” Bryn ordered. Harrow stepped forward, and she stepped away, dragging Sabine with her. “I said get back, or by the gods I will run you through.”
“She’s in phase,” Ama said. The spiteful bitch practically glowed with triumph, and Bryn cursed herself for not leaving Ama behind to rot with their master.
Harrow gazed at Bryn and Sabine with a speculative gleam in his pale blue eyes. She knew that look—the calculating gaze of a warrior sizing up his opponent—for she had worn it often enough herself. Bryn growled again and bared her teeth. He flexed his hands, but then took a slow step back.
“I’ll alert the doctor that you need aid,” he said.
Ama stood nearby, smirking as Harrow turned and left, and Bryn breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t expected him to walk away—the fact that he could was impressive, considering Sabine’s phase pheromones had over a year’s worth of kick to th
eir potency—but it bought her some time.
“You can’t keep her.” Ama always enjoyed twisting the knife.
“Bitch, walk away or I will end you,” Bryn warned.
Ama made the smart choice and retreated.
Sabine couldn’t go on living like this. Perhaps the doctor could find a way to end the phase that didn’t include taking a male mate, but that wasn’t likely. A frustrated sound—half sob, half growl—roughened Bryn’s throat as she cradled Sabine close and stroked her unbound hair.
It wasn’t fair. They’d dreamed of what they would do when they were free, but now thanks to Sabine’s phase Bryn would lose her lover as surely as if their master had sold her. Sabine was all she had, and the only reason Bryn had survived her time at the brothel. Bryn held Sabine close, and cried bitter tears.
Chapter Two
“Where have you been?” Captain Hawke asked. Judging by her scowl, she was annoyed with Jace, as usual. He had endured the captain’s temper through many missions on the Talon’s first incarnation.
“Settling our guests in. We have a new problem, but I’ll save that for after our exit,” he said.
“We don’t have time for more problems.” The captain ran a hand through her short-cropped dark hair, and Jace refrained from replying. The Talon II shuddered as the ship was struck by enemy fire. Apparently the mercs weren’t satisfied with attacking the jump station and had turned their attention to the fleeing ships. The shaking was to be expected during a fight, and Jace wasn’t worried yet. As long as their shields were up, they would protect the Talon II from the worst damage—Jace never worried until something on the bridge was burning.
Jace manned his station and checked the weapons systems. All the indicators were green, and normally that would give him a sense of ease, but his blood still thrummed with the distracting knowledge that there was a female in phase aboard the ship. Jace took a deep breath and flexed his fingers above the console. The mission came first.
“Weapons online and ready to fire, Captain,” he announced.