by Leia Gray
He counts out my credits and pushes a slip forward for me to sign. I press my thumb onto the designated space and the print shows up in glowing blue ink before he yanks it away.
“Sure you don’t wanna come back sometime?” the cyborg asks. “The crowd loves you. You could make a good living here. Steady work, steady pay…” He trails off.
“I know, and I’m not interested.” I take the deposit slip from him and turn on my heel, breezing out the double doors into the cold twilight.
It’s well past midnight now, only the night prowlers and other unsavory businesspeople skulking in the alleyways. I walk toward the docks, hoping to clear my head. I stop when I hear a small whimper behind me.
A child’s whimper.
I might be a warrior at heart, but children are the ultimate innocents. I can’t stand to see them mistreated. And I know all too well that Rianos has quite the reputation for doing just that.
A little boy, no more than five years old, sits in the gutter, sniffling. His clothes hang from him in dirty rags and he looks up at me with dark circles under his eyes.
“M-mister?”
My heart hurts for him. It’s criminal that a child be made to beg for food on the streets. Sustenance should be given with loving hands from proper guardians. My lips form a thin line as I think about my own troubled upbringing. All too often, that isn’t the case, as unfair as it may be. But I’ve seen enough of the galaxy to know that life isn’t fair. We’re all just players in this great game called life, and I try to do my part to help out where I can.
I step closer and crouch down next to him so he’s at eye level. The boy flinches away—a learned instinct I’m sure—but I hold out my hands in what I hope is a peaceful gesture. “Hey, I’m not here to harm you. It’s okay.”
The boy regards me skeptically and sniffles again, his lower lip quivering.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He stares at me for a few long moments as he regains his composure. He’s not flinching away anymore or making a run for it, so that’s a plus. “Zyr,” he says finally. “Who are you?”
“Darvok of Rathia,” I say. The credits from the cage club jingle in my pocket. I don’t need them. This kid does.
I take out the bag and toss it into the kid’s lap. He stares at me wide-eyed, like I’ve just tossed a grenade at him.
“Go on, open it.”
He does, and then his eyes grow even wider.
“Get yourself a nice meal, Zyr. And somewhere to sleep for the night, yeah? It’s not safe out here.”
The boy’s eyes start to water again. He swipes a hand across his face. “T-thank you, mister.” He holds the bag of credits to his chest so tightly, as if afraid they might fly away.
“Be careful with that now,” I warn him, and he nods vigorously before running off.
“Good lad,” I mumble to myself and carry on toward the docks.
I never needed the credits. I needed the release of a good fight.
I just wish there was more I could do.
7
Liana
After being led off the stage, there’s a momentary sense of relief.
Out of the spotlights, the crowds, and the mean girls glaring at me, I can finally hear myself think.
But that sense of relief is whisked away just about as soon as it comes.
“Wait here,” the master of ceremonies says. He leads me to a barely-furnished room with cold chrome walls and a single chair. “The sponsors are so excited to speak with you.”
Somehow I doubt that.
When he closes the door behind me and it seals with a pneumatic hiss, my heart sinks and the crown crashes to the floor.
I’m totally screwed.
My heart kicks into overdrive as I look for exits. I press my fingers along the smooth metal walls, looking for any indentation or opening.
Nothing.
I see an oxygen kit and other flight gear hanging out of a cabinet in the corner of the room. That’s when I realize I’m not in some waiting room after all.
I’m on a shuttle pod.
And where I’m going is anyone’s guess.
Icy tendrils of panic start to seep in like cold water through my veins. How could I have been so blind? I’ve never been one to ignore my instincts, but something about this station, this competition...it’s gotten into my head. It’s clouded my senses, and only now can I see the truth.
I’m more than just a pretty face! There are actual mediums in my family line! I should have listened to my gut when I had the chance. Now I’m trapped, and there’s no telling what will happen to me next.
After yanking at the door handle for the third time and finding it locked, I growl and give the door a frustrated kick.
“Dammit!” I scream, but there’s no one around to hear me.
I’m focusing on regulating my breathing when the door opens again and a large, hulking man darkens the frame.
He’s so tall he nearly bangs his head on the doorframe on the way in. His crimson skin looks like he just took a bath in blood, and who knows—maybe he did. I shiver at the thought and my gaze turns upward.
He has slanted shoulders and short arms. A muscular torso stretches his fine suit and the buttons look like they’re about to pop right off. He crosses those tree-trunk-like arms as he appraises me with glittering all-black eyes. I’ve never seen anything like him before.
The man flashes me a crocodile smile, showing ill-cared-for teeth and a few with gold caps. Horns protrude from his forehead and make him look like a literal devil.
Somehow, I doubt this is one of the ‘sponsors’ here to congratulate me and offer me a job.
Or worse—maybe it is.
There’s something about that greedy grin that makes my blood run cold, and I don’t want any part of it. I back up a couple steps and fall into the chair at the back of the room.
Wrong move.
Almost as if it’s been waiting for me, metal bands snap around my wrists and bind me to the chair. I yank at my bonds and the metal cuts into me deeper. This can’t be happening!
My breath quickens and my captor draws close, still wearing that lascivious smile that makes me want to barf. I rail against the chair, trying to get free. My heart’s racing and sweat starts to pop up on my skin. I’m still in my pageant gown, still wearing my winner’s sash. If I had my usual clothes and gear on me, I’d...
“You’re an extremely lovely catch,” the man says in a slimy tone. He circles around the chair and I can feel his gaze prickling across my skin. I hate how exposed I am in this dress. I hate even more how I can’t move, can’t get away from him.
He trails his hand across my shoulders and the back of my neck, making me flinch.
“You’ll fetch a good price.” He says it so casually. To him, I’m no more than a thing.
It feels like all the air’s sucked out of the room in an instant.
Slavers.
I’ve heard of them, sure. But never thought I’d get this up close and personal with one. Never thought I’d be the ‘pick of the day.’ Never thought I’d play right into their hands.
I’d been a fool.
“Release me. Now.” I try to keep my voice from shaking. I’ve been in messy situations before. Granted, nothing like this, but I remind myself that if I keep my head, I can still get out of here alive and well. “You have no right to hold me here.”
“Oh, I have every right, darling.” He reaches out to caress my cheek with those gnarled hands of his. I try to pull away, but I can only go so far.
I hate him. I hate him so much.
He grabs my chin and yanks my face to look at him. I squeeze my eyes shut. Please let this all be a dream—no—a nightmare.
“Look at me, girl,” the man rasps. It’s real.
That means I really am here, I really am a slave, and he really does intend to pass me off to the highest bidder.
Well, not if I have anything to do with it.
I do the only thing I ca
n think of in that moment. I open my eyes and spit, right in his smug face.
His eyes widen, first in shock, and then in rage.
His hand flies fast, striking across my cheek. My head snaps to the side and the shuttle pod spins. My skin burns with his smack, and even more with the humiliation of it. I didn’t get this far by letting people boss me around, and I wasn’t about to start now. I bare my teeth and yank at my restraints again while he wipes the spit off his face.
No good.
“You will never do that again, you understand me?” He smears his hand on his pants and grabs at the straps of my dress, pulling me as far out of the seat as I can go. To struggle now would be to snap the flimsy fabric and leave my body on display for him. That’s the last thing I want.
“You’re a feisty one, yes.” He releases me and I slump back into the seat, still watching him with narrowed eyes. “But you won’t be for long. You’ll learn soon enough who your real masters are around here, girl. And if you don’t? There’s a lot more than just slaps coming your way.” His voice carries such malice, such cruelty, such hatred. My stomach heaves with disgust and fear. Bile rises in the back of my throat and I swallow it back down.
I will not show weakness. Not in front of this man.
If he can even be called that.
With a last withering stare, my captor leaves the room and the door hisses closed behind him. Great. Now I’m stuck on this pod, alone and strapped to a chair. How much worse can things get?
Don’t answer that.
Waves crash around me. I swim in a vast body of water, brilliantly lit from both above and below. The water’s unbelievably clear, my reflection undulating with the tides. I look up and squint my eyes. Two shining orbs dot the sky, each giving off a pale warm light, each a slightly different color. They combine to form the purest, brightest white light I’ve ever seen, and it’s like I can see every droplet of dew, every crumble of gravel on the sea floor, every crack in every rock.
There’s the sound of splashing water behind me and I turn just in time to get a face full of it.
Gasping, and with water dripping off my lashes, my chin, my hair, I look up...and up, and up.
He’s so tall, looming over me with those glowing eyes of his.
I’ve seen him before...
A jolt of recognition spreads through me. That purple skin. Those muscles. That cocky grin. It’s the man from the space station. The one I locked eyes with minutes before the shuttle took off. The one I thought I’d never see again.
Yet here he was.
He cups my cheek and whispers into my ear, his breath feathery light on my skin. “Wake up.”
“Wha...?”
“Wake up,” he whispers again, and I open my eyes.
“Shit,” I mouth when I realize I’m still trapped in the shuttle pod. The restraints on my wrists show no sign of giving up any time soon, and even though my legs are free, what could I really do? Kick anyone that tries to come close?
My face feels dry and crackly, like I’ve been crying. Did I black out? I blink my eyes and the room comes into focus. Same hellish shuttle pod. Same prison-chair.
There’s a monitor on the door in front of me now, having slid out from some unseen panel. Words and coordinates read out across the screen, but the type’s too small for me to read. What I really focus on is the view.
It’s the closest thing I have to a window in this forsaken pod. Stars and planets and clumps of space rock zoom by around us.
He’s given me a front row seat to just how far from home I am. He means to scare me.
I can’t tell where we are exactly, but I do know one thing: we’re far, far from home. Well out of the range of my home sector, well out of the range of anyone that could save me. The worlds are scarcer out here, the stations more infrequent. This must be what they call the Wastes.
I try to swallow the lump in my throat and squint at the text on the screen. There’s a destination marker not far off, but I can’t see what it says.
As if reading my mind, an inset display pops up, magnifying the destination icon.
A cold, undead relic of a station slowly rotates in front of my eyes, formless gray metal against the unfeeling darkness of space.
Just as the text enlarges enough for me to read it, the door slides open and the screen minimizes to let the attendants through.
I bite my lip, cursing the ill timing. The red-skinned man is nowhere to be found. He’s sent his cronies to do his dirty work this time.
They’re red-skinned and onyx-eyed like he is, but slighter in frame. One’s tall, one’s shorter, closer to my height. They wear matching outfits that look like they belong more in a hospital than a space ship, and regard me with wary eyes.
I try to appraise them and figure out my options. A well-aimed kick to the groin could incapacitate one if they got close enough, but what then? Sweet talk them into letting me free? Ply them for information?
You’ve gotten out of shit before, Liana, I remind myself. Breathe and think.
Only the choices that appear seem to be rapidly diminishing.
“Hey, lady,” the attendant on the left says. “Just gonna clean you up. We mean you no harm; it’s just that the boss needs the merchandise to look good for the showing is all.”
I growl at them and poise a kick. “I am not your merchandise,” I spit through gritted teeth.
“You’ll have to take that up with the boss.” The shorter one of the duo sidesteps my swinging legs and presses a cool gel to my bruised cheek. It tingles for a moment as it soaks into my skin, and then the deep ache from my captor’s brutal slap is gone.
I suck in a breath and dodge their attempts to shove food at me. I may not be able to get out of here right now, but hell if I’m gonna take it laying down. The least I can do right now is make things as difficult for them as possible.
“Hold her,” the taller assistant growls and the short man grabs my head an iron grip, holding me still. The attendant forces food into my mouth, dry and powdery and stale. I spit it back at them, flecking their pristine clothes with food and saliva.
They look to one another uneasily.
There’s a beep from overhead and an intercom comes on.
It’s my captor again. I can tell from his raspy voice. Has he been watching me this whole time?
“Magnus, Leon! You ignorant swine! Leave her. If she wants to play this game, let her starve.”
The voice chills me all the way to my bones. I ignore the pangs of hunger, exhaustion, and thirst. If they’re going to take everything away from me, I will at least hold on to my pride.
The attendants straighten and file toward the door without so much as a second glance at me.
As the door hisses closed once more, my captor’s voice fills the cabin.
“Give it up, girl. The sale will go on soon enough.”
Tears well up at the corners of my eyelids and I finally give myself over, emotion racking through me as I shudder in my prison.
He’s right. I’m cold, hungry, trapped, and totally alone.
8
Darvok
I manage to make it to the docks before I lose all sense completely.
The emotions still run through my mind, raw and intensifying. Who, or whatever, this is, is trying to reach me. But how?
I stare out at the ocean and the incoming waves. I try to follow those feelings to their source, but without my precious ore, it’s difficult. Then I see her. Those eyes I saw on the shuttle that fated day. That woman.
I should have known she’d be tied up in this somehow. I realize the feelings and thoughts I’m getting are not from Krevith, but from her. And she’s one of his captives.
This bothers me in more ways than one. On the one hand, if I find the girl, I can find Krevith and finally take him out.
But on the other, I don’t want to risk getting involved with whoever this woman is while I’ve still got a job to do. She sure is making things complicated.
I let out o
f breath and draw in some cool evening air. The wind is salty here, blowing off the sea. I don’t even know her name, or where she is, but she’s haunting my senses. Like her spirit is reaching out to me in desperation.
I can’t help the way my heart reacts to her distress. It awakens something in me, a heroic instinct I reserve solely for my people. That, and extreme innocents, like children. Like that little boy I saw on the alleyway.
I turn my gaze upwards, searching the stars for answers. Is that you, Tia? Without my Agrith leaves, I have no way to know. And now the Imala is gone to.
Perhaps this is the sign I’ve been waiting for. I can’t ignore it; I can’t let it go. It’s as if my soul has been ignited by the spirits without warning. Yes, this is what they want me to do. I’m sure of it.
Through the mixture of emotions and feelings and thoughts, I feel the pull of the Imala. That really sets my heart into overdrive. It’s like it’s calling out to me. Like it wants to be found.
And I’ve never been one to deny the spirits.
I turn away from the sea and head toward the shuttle dock once more. I’ve got a ship to catch.
9
Liana
The shuttle arrives at long last, shuttering into the docking station. It’s dimly-lit, grimy, and so far from anything I’ve ever seen before. A sign nearly covered with rust and grease and grime reads Ecto Station.
Shit.
I’ve heard of this place. Heard of it in school. Kind of a cautionary what not to do tale. It’s a broken-down playground for the wicked. Despair is rife, to be co-opted and used to one’s twisted fill here. I can’t imagine what my captor has in store for me in such a place.