by Stella Cassy
That's almost certainly Carissa, the woman Lara warned me about, I thought. Guess I'd better watch my step around her.
During my years in the mines, I'd gotten pretty good at sizing new people up as I met them, in order to determine their potential threat levels. That kind of training and instinct doesn't fade away quickly, if at all. As I looked Carissa over, I noted that she was wiry – not obviously muscular, but probably no pushover either, when it came down to it. Her stature was small, so her limbs weren't particularly long, which meant reach wouldn't be a problem. Since she was seated, I couldn't get a good read on her overall posture to determine whether she was a trained fighter.
Those eyes, though. There was a manic quality in them that I'd seen enough times in others to be wary of. Those eyes didn't say she was crazy as a rule, but they said she could easily turn crazy, when the occasion warranted.
And in a brawl, the right kind of frenzy and abandon could be far deadlier than any advantages in weight or formal training.
I shook my head lightly. This was a ridiculous line of thought. I was stepping into a celebration hall, not a fighting arena.
...So why did it feel so much like the reverse?
I noticed that there was a row of green bottles standing in a line in the center of the table from one end to the other, and groaned inwardly. I was fairly certain I wouldn't be able to stomach one more sip of that vile nectar these dragons seemed to love so much, even to be polite – or even on a dare, for that matter.
“Ah, Natalie!” Tarion stood, holding his arms wide in greeting. “Welcome to our revels! I'm delighted to see that Dashel ordered that hideous metal collar removed.”
Carissa stood up suddenly, with a furious look on her face as though she'd just been slapped. “'Natalie?' 'Collar?!' You fucking bitch, I'll kill you—!”
She launched herself across the table at me, her eyes seeming to roll over black like a shark about to sink its teeth into its prey.
Well, I thought, good thing I didn't let myself relax around her too much, huh?
I shifted my legs under me immediately, planting my feet firmly to prepare for her onslaught and raising my arms in a defensive posture. I was right – she wasn't a disciplined fighter, which made her even more dangerous, a psychotic blizzard of skinny arms and legs whirling at me from every angle. What's more, I could feel the heat of her anger radiating off her body like a blast furnace.
I started with a quick rabbit-punch to her nose, just to stun her and slow her down. Then I plunged an elbow deep into her center mass, aiming for her solar plexus but missing by a few inches. She doubled over, but only for the briefest of moments – her fingernails raked my left cheek, deep enough to draw blood.
I delivered a kick to her chest, but I must have telegraphed that move somehow. She didn't have enough time to dodge it fully, but she was still able to absorb the blow enough to keep her sternum from cracking. She rocked backward but didn't fall.
Then we were circling each other warily, both poised to strike. Glancing down, I realized her nails hadn't just connected with my face – there were ragged claw marks on my forearms, and I could feel blood trickling down the side of my neck as well.
“I don't know what your problem is,” I said, “but if you're smart, you'll back off now so we can talk it out, instead of pushing your luck with me and forcing me to really hurt you.”
“'Really hurt me?'” she screamed incredulously. “You already did, you stupid twat! Over and over, at the N-7 colony! Or don't you remember that? No, I guess I was just one more slave for you to kick around so you could earn a pat on the back from your Pax friends, huh?”
“I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'm sorry I don't remember doing it,” I told Carissa evenly. “I saw a lot of slaves come and go. I tried not to get close enough to most of them to remember them, since it only would have made my job harder.”
“No, just close enough to break my arm and knock out three of my molars! You really seemed to love your 'job', didn't you? You were even more cruel than the Mosets and the Vence who worked in the camp! Made you feel real big to smack the rest of us around, right? Real important?”
“I was just trying to survive my captivity, same as you.” I was trying to scan her for weak points as I distracted her with my words, but I wasn't finding any. Every inch of her seemed coiled, dangerous—a sack of lethal snakes, ready to burst open and fill me with their poison. “I didn't have a choice.”
“Of course you did! You could have shown some mercy, some compassion for another human who was snatched into slavery just like you were! Instead, you decided you'd be better off hopping into bed with the Pax to save your own skin. And now look whose bed you're in! Guess you traded up, huh? And why not? After all, going from a Pax-loving slave driver to a whore for the Hielsrane is a real step up in the world!”
“Seems to me like we're keeping the same company these days, you and I.” My eyes flickered toward Tarion, who had an apprehensive look on his face – clearly, he was uncertain of whether to intervene. I couldn't quite blame him. I wouldn't have wanted Carissa's rage aimed at me either, if I'd had a choice.
Too bad I didn't.
“We are nothing alike,” Carissa spat. “After I healed from the beating you gave me – for having the audacity to accidentally fall on a mining cart and dent it while working a shaft, by the way, since you probably don't remember that either – I was transferred to N-2. A real shithole. But instead of collaborating with the Pax there, I led a rebellion against them. They caught me and spent three months torturing me. I screamed until I couldn't recognize the sound of my own voice anymore.”
Something clicked into place in my head. “You led the N-2 rebellion?”
“You're goddamn right I did.”
I felt pure rage burning in me, until my head felt like it would explode into flames. “Your little stunt made the Pax in the other colonies so angry they decided to take it out on the rest of us—including my husband Daniel. He was fed to a Nk'athen because of you.”
“Yeah?” she sneered. “Good. I hope it fucking hurt.”
Now it was my turn to lose control – to abandon all the tenets of self-defense I'd honed over the years and fully embrace my pure, murderous hatred. I threw myself at Carissa like a human missile, loathing myself for what I'd done to her, loathing her for what she'd done to Daniel, loathing Daniel for leaving me alone until I was forced to become as hard and cruel and ruthless as my captors, as the dragons, as the indifferent stars who'd blankly stared down through the mine shafts at all of us while we suffered and screamed and bled and died, for nothing, for nothing...
My limbs were tangled up with hers, and we hit the floor in a ball of hissing, shrieking, clawing insanity. Her nails scraped skin from my forehead and eyelids in a stray swipe, and the next thing I knew, blood was filling my eyes and my entire world was drenched in gore.
This was the reality of my world, its true form finally exposed. Everywhere I turned, everything I did, nothing but red horror.
I felt her teeth sink into my upper arm just as my knee connected with her jaw, snapping it cleanly. I heard a couple of sharp, tiny, jagged objects clatter to the floor next to my head.
Sounds like I just cost you a couple more teeth, you fucking cow, I thought with grim satisfaction.
“This is barbaric!” I heard Lehar protest. “Shouldn't someone put a stop to it, before they kill each other?!”
“You do whatever you want,” Stal cut in, “but I've got twenty credits that say Natalie wins this one by knockout.”
“I'll take that bet,” one of Tarion's officers replied crisply.
“What is wrong with all of you?!” Dashel's voice this time. “She's pregnant! She's carrying my younglings! This could endanger their safety! Tarion, help me end this!”
A few seconds later, Tarion and Dashel reached in between us, trying to pry us off each other. It didn't do much good. Our fingers were locked around each other's throats in a death grip. Carissa's eyes were bloodsho
t and bulging, and black roses began to bloom in my field of vision as my air supply was cut off.
Doesn't matter, I thought as everything went dim and distant. Never see Earth again. Daniel either. Least I can...punish her...for...that...
Dashel's claws scraped the delicate flesh of my throat as he ripped Carissa's fingers away from it. Tarion pulled mine from Carissa's neck as well, but that seemed like it was happening light years away. Another world, another galaxy, too far to reach, too far to even think about ever again. One tiny gleaming speck in the sky, one star out of a hundred billion, lost to me forever.
26
Dashel
Natalie went limp in my arms as I dragged her away from Carissa – who was still pinwheeling her arms and legs, striking and clawing in all directions like a rabid Loxican Fiend Lemur. The officers standing around us seemed disappointed that we'd chosen to abruptly end their entertainment.
“Enough of that, all of you!” Tarion roared. “These women are our mates, not gladiators to fight for your amusement! Show them some respect!”
The crew members quieted down instantly, fearful of Tarion's wrath.
He turned to me, hoisting Carissa over one of his massive shoulders. “I apologize for her violent behavior, Dashel. It was uncalled for.”
“Don't you dare apologize for me!” Carissa screeched. “You let go of me right now! I'll kill her, you hear me?! I'll rip her fucking lungs out!”
“That sounds like a good argument for not letting go of you, then,” Tarion replied calmly. “Besides, there's no honor in harming a pregnant woman.” He carried her out of the mess hall as she continued to kick and rage.
“Well, if there's no wager to be made on the outcome after all,” Stal commented dryly, stepping forward, “I suppose I'd better examine her to make sure she's unharmed.”
“You could have tried to stop it,” I said, “rather than encouraging it by betting on the winner.”
Stal raised an eyebrow. “Do you happen to see a whistle hanging around my neck, captain?”
“No.”
“Correct. That's because I'm not a referee, and as such, I have no incentive to get between two combatants. Especially when they seem as keen on slaughtering each other as these two. No, that sounds like the sort of responsibility a person in authority might have. A leader of some sort—like a captain, for example.”
“All right, all right, point taken. How is she?”
“Just cuts and scratches mostly, plus a hairline fracture in her left wrist and a cracked incisor. All easy to repair with what I've got in sickbay. Her pregnancy isn't in any danger, though I'll keep a close eye on her over the next few days just to make sure.”
Later, after Stal had treated Natalie's minor wounds, she woke up and looked up at me. Her eyelids were fluttering delicately like the wings of a Vulnavian Dusk Moth, and I was once more reminded of how beautiful she was.
“I'll give you two some time alone,” Stal harrumphed, making a graceful exit.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, leaning down over her.
“Like a total idiot,” she replied ruefully. “I know Carissa started the fight, but I should have been better at keeping my cool. I shouldn't have escalated it by throwing myself at her when I found out about...” But from the look of it, she couldn't quite manage to finish that sentence. “Especially now that I'm pregnant. Especially knowing it wouldn't bring him back.”
“Such behavior is not uncommon among Drakon,” I reassured her with a smile. “Once our females begin the process of brooding and nesting, they are known for becoming extremely quick to anger.”
That got a small laugh out of her. “So that's what I'm doing, is it? 'Brooding' and 'nesting?' Should I be picking up twigs and bits of fluff to make a nest? Maybe pick out a nice little spot on a tree branch?”
I chuckled. “Perhaps. At any rate, I believe Tarion and Lehar are returning to their respective ships, along with their mates. So you won't need to look over your shoulder and sleep with a knife under your pillow where Carissa is concerned, at least.”
“Oh? You don't think I could've taken her?”
“I'm sure you could have. I'm just glad you didn't have to, and that our hatchlings are safe inside you.”
Natalie looked down at her stomach and put a hand over it, her expression unreadable. “'Our hatchlings.' That's still a hard concept to get my mind around. Daniel and I talked about having kids, but it never ended up happening. At the time, I guess I didn't give it too much thought. Looking back now, though, I suppose there was some part of me that just assumed I was the one who couldn't...you know. Get pregnant. Looks like that wasn't true. Or at least, I couldn't with a human, ha. And now I have a pair of dragons growing inside of me. I should probably be a lot more scared and grossed out about it, but instead, I'm just...in awe.”
“You mentioned him before, too,” I pointed out gently. “Daniel, I mean. You said you couldn't bring him back. But...would you, if you could?”
27
Natalie
Would I? It was a difficult question, and I sat silently for a while, giving it some serious thought. Dashel deserved that.
“The truth? I have no idea. I hated losing him. I hated the horrible way he died. More than anything, I hated how alone I felt after that. I even hated him a little for dying, even though I know how stupid and irrational that sounds.”
Dashel shook his head. “Not at all. I understand perfectly. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit it, but I felt the same way after losing Qumarah.”
I tilted my head, looking up at him. “Your mate? The one who died? I remember you mentioned her during the fight with the Pax.”
He let out a mirthless laugh. “Yes, the perfect time to reminisce about one's deceased wife, eh? In retrospect, I'm surprised my sentimentality didn't get us all killed.”
I put my hand over his. “What happened to her?”
“She contracted a terrible illness. Giliu Syndrome. We both did, actually. I recovered from it, but she didn't. And for the longest time, no matter how much I tried to cling to the good memories, the best times we'd shared, the way her beauty and kindness had lit a lantern inside my heart...”
“Instead, all you could think of were those last awful moments,” I finished for him, nodding. “It felt like all the happiness that was yours by right had been stolen, replaced with the ugliness and horror and grief of their deaths. Until in the end, you find yourself hating them for ever having been in your life at all—”
“—and hating yourself for hating them,” he said softly. “So you do understand. Ever since then, I...well, I didn't handle things in a particularly healthy manner. I became terrified of germs, of getting sick again. Not because I feared dying from it, but because I feared that the experience would force me to re-live her death all over again.” He paused, then added, “Or perhaps because I simply worried that the next time, I wouldn't be able to muster the strength to fight it off, preferring instead to simply succumb to it and join her. Either way, this manifested in extremely paranoid and unbalanced behavior. I started cleaning myself obsessively, far too many times each day—each hour, even. When I received this command, I was concerned that my crew would find out and worry that their captain was suffering from some form of insanity.”
“But I've been here for quite some time now,” I pointed out, “and I haven't seen you act that way.”
He frowned, as though this hadn't previously occurred to him. “You're right. I haven't. Not since you've been here. Whatever prison of the mind I'd locked myself in, it seems you've released me.”
“Which is a bit ironic,” I said with a smile, “given how our relationship began.”
Dashel laughed, but I could tell he was still preoccupied. “So would you? Bring him back, if you could?”
“That seems like a fairly useless question, unless you Drakon have some kind of cloning technology I don't know about. Which, now that I think of it, isn't wholly beyond the realm of possibility.”
�
��We don't, no. Several scientists on our world have attempted to develop such things in secret over the past century or so, but once they were discovered, they were promptly executed. To bring back someone the universe has taken from us is considered a grave abomination in our culture – or at least, that's what our leaders tell us. Sometimes, I suspect it's simply because they don't want such technology to fall into the wrong hands. Which makes sense. After all, you wouldn't want to have to fight the same Pax armada we just defeated over and over again, would you?”
“I didn't even want to fight them the first time.” I thought about it, then shook my head. “No, that's not really true. I guess I did want a bit of payback.”
“I realize it may seem like a useless question,” he went on, returning to the subject I'd desperately been trying to distract him from. “But I'd really like to know.”
“Would I bring Daniel back?” I sighed. “If you're asking whether I love you and I'm happy to be with you, Dashel, the answer is yes. But if you're asking whether part of me still misses him, the answer to that is 'yes' too.”
“I can understand that,” he answered hesitantly, “but it seems like there's more to it than that, too.”
“Like I said, the worst part of losing him was the loneliness that followed. And no offense, but I'm not sure if you can fully understand this part, since you were born and raised on a planet where galactic travel and interstellar wars were just a normal part of life. As a human, that stuff is so far beyond anything I was mentally or emotionally prepared to handle. We only saw those things in movies and on television. They were entertainment for us because they were so far beyond belief, you know? Colorful fantasies invented by creative minds, and always confined to the limited space of the screens and our own imaginations. But once I was faced with the real thing, space just seemed so...impossibly big, and so violent and unforgiving. And when he died, I had to face it all on my own. I couldn't even lean on the support of my fellow slaves.” I let out a harsh laugh. “I guess I was a little too busy ordering them around and abusing them, so I could find some way to get ahead.”