Love Struck

by Casey Lea

  Haze threw out his own fist, so his knuckles brushed past the groping fingers offered by the slaver. “For luck,” he grated and the guard whispered the words too, then drew his hand back reverently, before turning to pace slowly away. “Hey,” Haze called after him, “that bundle you’re holding. Is it clothes?”

  The slaver turned back and his face flushed as purple as a teenager’s. “Sorry. So sorry. I don’t know where my thoughts are. Here, Haze. Wear it how you like.”

  He proffered the strip dangling from his hand and it shimmered in the light before slithering into Haze’s grip. He held tight to a length of metallic cloth which was cold and pricked his fingers, making him wince before he looked closer. Not cloth, no. It was a long and supple length of chain mail and he knew exactly where to wrap it, despite the chill of the metal. Fortunately one side was smoother than the other - its links filed flat then lined with soft leather - so he placed that between his legs and wound the rest over his hips then around his waist. The trailing end had hooks that clutched the armoured strip and sealed it to form a very basic garment. It seemed he was dressed to kill.

  The sound of footsteps made Haze look up to see the guard disappearing from the room. The Harvester’s tooth-crested helmet jerked lower, then vanished around the corner of a circular staircase that drilled down through the floor of the reception vault. Haze strode after the slaver and took the stairs two at a time. He ran into the man’s back, which helped him slow down and steadied his pace, but his heart rattled on regardless. Close, close, close. So close.

  The stairs spiralled deeper and the roof grew lower until the guard had to duck to continue. Haze glanced up at the chill stone growing closer to his head, but his gaze was caught by a stray wave of blonde hair. His own hair. Damn. He usually kept it bristle short. It must have got shaggy while he was distracted - crewing with smugglers and bribing slavers to get this deep into Dead Space. He licked his fingers and tried to smooth the wayward strand. He hadn’t felt this nervous since his first date with Silk, which was stupid. His wife was the least superficial person he knew and she’d be thrilled to see him, even if he was messier than a matted bile-hog.

  “How is she?” Haze asked and the guard twisted awkwardly to peer back up the stairs.

  “She?” the Harvester asked and Haze started to explain, but didn’t need to. The man continued without an answer, so Luck Shansia must have told him about Haze’s quest. “Oh, Silk. Deadly and drakking impressive. She’s one of my favorites. I frisk her for weapons whenever I can-”

  Silver light suddenly shone as bright as any spotlight turning the dim stairwell to a dazzling shaft, but Haze no longer cared about the heat in his eyes. He was too busy trying to stop his fingers digging deeper into the slaver’s throat. The man gargled and his eyes bulged, glossy as grapes, then started to ooze when Haze’s other hand dug into his cheeks. A claxon sounded, while crimson light strobed through Haze’s ice-white vision, and the alarm was enough to help him stop. He jerked his hands back and the Harvester dropped to the ground. The slaver flopped against the treads gasping like a fish, with Haze crouched over him. The world was still painted silver, while his victim’s most vulnerable targets glowed temptingly within the dark shadow of his body.

  Haze stared at the pulse running through the guard’s throat, unable to step away. His fingers flexed, but as his eyes started to clear he noticed a brand under the Harvester’s jaw. It wasn’t the usual clan identifier and its information turned his rage to shame. Haze snapped upright and his eyes calmed completely, while his cheeks flamed instead.

  The slaver at his feet wasn’t a true person at all. Its chin was marked with a clone brand. He couldn’t believe he’d choked a short-life clone. What was next? Attacking cripples? Or the elderly? Clones were always made with a use-by date and although that could be years, this sad copy might be due to die tomorrow. The last thing Haze wanted to do was hurry the process.

  After stepping over the panting man, who lay head down with his legs sprawled back up the stairwell, Haze continued down the stairs. He stopped when his gaze was level with the guard’s. The Harvester’s eyes were weeping, but his expression was furious. They stared at each other and the only sound was the rasp the slaver made with each breath. Haze waited until that wheeze grew fainter, before offering a brief nod. “Apologies. Now take me to Silk.”

  His guide cleared his throat with the sound of phlegm and gravel. “She won’t even know you,” he whispered and panic nipped at Haze.

  “Why not?”

  “Won’t recognise you.”

  The panic bit deeper, and Haze had to clear his throat too. “You mind wipe the prisoners,” he accused.

  The Harvester scowled, but looked away before pushing himself upright. He staggered on the uneven footing, then steadied himself. “A little memory snip is all. They’re easier to control if they think they’re close to release.”

  “How small a snip?”

  ‘Whatever it takes. Some less, some more and for the stubborn ones, a total rewrite. Guess what Silk got?”

  The blood pounded in Haze’s temples and it was hard to hear, but he gestured sharply down the stairs. The guard squeezed past to lead the way deeper and Haze followed at his heels, but his eagerness had lost its edge. His wife might not even know him, which made his mission much more complicated. He still had to rescue Silk, but first he had to survive meeting her.

  3

  REUNION

  Haze stepped from the stairwell into a dark and steamy chamber. Light fell from ceiling wells overhead and drifted down through fog to paint hazy stripes across the room. That open space was almost silent. The only sounds were the soft murmur of voices and the occasional splash. Steep-sided circular pools that looked like oversized wells filled the room. Each was packed with bathers and as he stared a naked woman heaved herself over the edge of her hot pool. His heart accelerated when she rose and walked toward them, but it wasn’t Silk. The approaching fighter was taller and leaner than his wife, with fewer curves and no sign of a smile.

  The guard shifted his feet and snatched off his helm. “Morning, Hunter.”

  The stranger ignored him, but gave Haze a hard look as she swayed past. He half-turned on a heel, watching her leave, but then shook himself and shifted his attention back to the chamber. “What is this place?”

  The guard sniffed, before crooking his little finger and spitting to complete the warding gesture. “Can I say without being attacked?”

  “Possibly. Choose your words carefully.”

  “Cleansing pools. Ladies like them. A reward for being good and the audience gets to watch. Silk’s here.”

  Haze pushed his way past the man and strode to the first row of pools. He glanced at the naked women packed close in the steaming water, but his gaze didn’t linger. His eyes swept every well without success, until the air left his lungs in a tortured sigh. Silk wasn’t here. His concern rose, along with a sensation he’d never felt before. He had no idea what to do.

  Another female drew herself from the nearest pool and padded across. She stopped in front of Haze then shook her head so that water sprayed from her short white hair over his face. She was as tall as he was and noticeably broader. She wrinkled her nose before tossing her head again. Was she trying to be enticing?

  “This one’s cute. Best toy for a time.”

  “He’s not recreational,” the guard said. “He’s a gladiator.”

  Her grey eyes narrowed and her gaze raked Haze from head to toe. She snorted, then her lip curled and she started to laugh. “Truly?” she finally gasped. “No. He’s too pretty. Looks like some type of soft-hands. Banker, or lawyer, or such.”

  Haze looked past the woman, unmoved by her assessment. People tended to underestimate him, which was often useful. Where the hail was Silk?

  The stranger stamped away and Haze remained standing there at a loss, until a familiar figure appeared from the mist. She walked closer, before stopping in a wispy strip of light and his heart stopped t
oo. She squeezed water from her dark hair then flipped it back over her shoulder. Haze knew that toss of the head. Knew it better than his own dreams. His surroundings shrank away, while her glowing figure grew to fill the world.

  It was Silk certain-sure and the sight of her was enough to make his chest feel raw. A year of marriage had only deepened his desire for her. Another year spent apart had made it frantic. It was hard not to sprint forward and seize her. She pulled her fingers through those dark waves, tugging impatiently at any tangles and the pain in his chest sliced deeper. He opened his mouth to call to her, but she looked up, straight at him and he was silenced.

  Their eyes met, but only briefly before Silk looked away. Her teeth caught her lower lip and she glanced back in a double take, but then her gaze strayed past Haze again. She didn’t know him. He stepped forward, into the challenge of her indifference and she finally looked back. She hoisted a strip of metal cloth in her hands and watched him approach. She frowned, but he grinned back like a fool and she twisted the chainmail into place round her hips, then sauntered to meet him.

  Drops of water slid down her dusky skin, while a sweet fragrance wafted ahead of her. Her lips parted like a rose in the sun. She was real and this was better, so much better, than any distant dream.

  Silk stopped short and it took all of Haze’s self-control to halt too. He could feel the heat from her body, but her expression was cold enough to freeze him in place. “Silk,” he croaked, while she glared in response.

  “Keep staring at me like that, Blondie,” she said, “and you’ll be fighting in the eunuchs’ league.”

  Haze’s fists clenched with the need to hit something, preferably a guard, but he locked his arms in place and reminded himself that she was a memory-wiped prisoner. This was exactly what he’d feared. Still, it was hard to believe she didn’t recognize him and even harder to accept. “You don’t know me,” he said, to himself as much as his wife.

  Silk’s lips curved, but not in the dazzling, delighted-to-see-him grin he’d imagined. Instead they stopped at something smaller and tighter, a mocking smile. “I truly don’t. Now piss off.”

  “I can’t do that. Not until we talk.”

  “Talk? Really? Because you look like a sleaze who wants more.”

  “Actually, I love you.”

  Silk scowled and threw the guard a glare. “It’s your job to keep the weird ones out, Trilleon.”

  The Harvester stared her down. “He’s called Haze. Says he’s your husband.”

  Silk snorted. “You fell for that? Get him out of here.”

  “It’s true,” Haze said, while his fronds sent all the conviction they could. His wife wasn’t a telepath, but it might help. Somewhere in there she had to remember him. Had to feel the connection that made him lean forward, tipping toward her so his face was close to hers. Their eyes met again and he stared into hers, until she drew a sharp breath.

  Silk’s hand swung to crack across his cheek and she backed up two paces. Out of reach again. “Stay away,” she hissed and the pain in his chest was far worse than the ache spreading over his face.

  Haze grinned anyway and shrugged. “Can’t do that. Think about it, please. You must know me, because I surely know you. I know what you feel when we stand close and I know what you want to feel. My fingers on the nape of your neck… sliding into your hair… cupping your head-”

  This time Silk’s hand stabbed out, her fingers stiff and straight to slam into Haze’s gut. His words morphed into a wheeze and he doubled over. Her elbow came down on the back of his neck, driving him to the floor. He collapsed on his face and she stepped on him as she walked over him. Nice. His wife still had a gift for adding injury to insult. He grimaced at the floor, gasping and unable to call after her.

  Finding Silk wasn’t what he’d imagined.

  Haze had to remind himself that at least it was a start. How much more it could be in a single day he didn’t know, but he closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into his palms, while his mind sent a silent order. Every fleck hidden in his body responded and his fingers tingled when their combined power sent a distress call toward the nearest star. His team was hidden beyond it. The best defence team on Blizzard and they’d come in fast. Rescue was on its way and he just had to keep Silk alive for a few more hours, which he could definitely do - but stopping her from killing him? Out in the arena? That was the real challenge.

  “I can do it,” Haze wheezed to the floor. “She survived this long ‘cos she’s been waiting. Even if she doesn’t know it. Waiting for me."

  Metal boots the size of inter-planetary barges stopped next to him. A strip of chainmail pooled on the ground when another gladiator squatted at his side. "Sure didn't look like it," the stranger observed. "I'm Choke. Been told to take you back to the boys. C'mon."

  Haze scrambled up and rose to the man’s… waist? That couldn’t be right. He stood straighter and his eyes managed to reach the barrel masquerading as Choke’s chest. Haze looked up, past hard curves of dark skin and further up, to finally find a pair of brown eyes. “Hi.”

  The ebony slabs of Choke’s face moved minutely, like tectonic plates stirring, but it couldn’t be called a smile. “Hi.”

  “Yes, you are. Do you come with a guide book?”

  “Follow me, child.” The monolith turned away and Haze obediently trotted at his heels, which certainly made parting the crowd easy. He was aware of people clustering close behind once they passed and looked back to see a group of guards milling aimlessly. They swung in different directions at his glance and he shrugged then forgot them. It was time to meet the boys.

  ***

  Guard Leader Trilleon was the last to move away. He waited until Haze disappeared into the tunnel that led between the pens, before accessing his com. It hummed - while he stared after the new gladiator. The male wasn’t big for a fighter, but he had shocking strength and his quest for his wife was touching.

  The Harvester carefully felt his throat. Drak. It hurt like a lost wager, but he couldn’t blame Haze. Being careless with a Beserk was stupid and he’d paid for his folly.

  A chime announced the arena owner’s response and Trilleon bobbed his head to a pale female who appeared over his com. She frowned and he bowed deeper while greeting her. “Luck Shansia.”

  “Tobleon.”

  “It’s Trilleon. Guard Leader Trilleon”

  “Whichever. Is the volunteer still there?”

  “Yes, lady.”

  “Will he stay?”

  “Yes. He thinks he can save Silk.”

  Luck Shansia smiled. “Not with such an obvious plan. He sent out a rescue beacon - but it’s been damped. He’ll get no help today.”

  “When his followers don’t come he’ll send another.”

  “Indeed,” Shansia snapped. “He’ll choose a different frequency to try again and this time we’ll let it go through. There’s no-one left to answer anyway. With Luck he’ll be too busy by then to notice when they fail to respond. By the time he accepts their desertion the day will be done. I wonder what will happen when he has to choose between his life and that of his love. She’s a stranger now and obviously hates him.”

  Trilleon nodded, with a tilt of his head that showed respectful disagreement. “I bet his love for his wife wins out. Why would he be here otherwise?”

  “Silk is no longer his wife and I’ll take that wager. A thousand credits, offered at double to one.”

  “Done,” Trilleon said. He could hardly believe his Luck. He’d briefly been part of Haze’s quest and now he could make money off the lovers too. It was going to be a great day.

  4

  INTRODUCTIONS

  Haze had to jog to keep up with Choke and their trip to the male holding-pen was swift. Suddenly it became far too swift. The metal passage they were following abruptly dived deeper, the ramp ahead growing so steep he was sliding before he could step back. The walls rushed past and his bare feet grew hot and sweaty. He skidded faster and realized stopping would
be tricky. And potentially messy.

  However, his acceleration ended when the tunnel turned back to rock. He stumbled forward, almost collecting Choke’s broad back, and only the grit underfoot stopped him falling. The path had led into a rough-hewn subterranean burrow that might have been gnawed by some giant rodent.

  “A warning would have been good,” Haze called to the big man, who kept on walking.

  “Don’t expect them,” Choke growled without looking back, “but since you asked, watch the feet, princess.”

  The feet? Haze looked down just in time to see a pair of dirty feet sticking out into the path. He stopped short before tripping over them and peered into a recess in the ragged wall. A pale figure was curled there, jammed into the small space. Thin white arms were wrapped around equally skinny shins in an effort to stay out of the tunnel, but the boy’s feet still intruded. The youngster shuddered while his mind wept fear.

  Haze crouched down, balanced on the balls of his feet, so they were at the same level. “Hey, kid. What’s your name?”

  The boy lifted his head, flipping back sandy hair and studied Haze blankly. “Sh-shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “Mistake. Shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be.”

  Fingers like a grapple hauled Haze to his feet and he spun away before glaring at Choke. Haze had to strangle his anger before he strangled someone else, but it was impossible to stifle it completely. His eyes snapped to battle-sight and silver light filled the tunnel like a lantern in a mine shaft. He was very close to losing control, until Choke’s reaction stopped him. The big man smiled and the gesture split his face into little chunks of joy. Huh? Thought filtered back to cover Haze’s fury and he shook his head to clear it. His anger had never made anyone happy before.