by S. L. Viehl
The sound of coughing came over the audio. “By the… Mother… when was the… last time… the
Ramothorran descaled… these tubes?” More coughing.
“Probably never.” I monitored the protorp, which reached the slaver vessel a moment later. There was a
small bloom of heat, and the Garnotans came to a dead halt. “Nalek is on his way to help you. Keep
prepping those tubes.” I terminated the signal and ran the scanner.
Kol watched my screen. “Full impact?”
“Yeah.” I gnawed at my lower lip. “Stopped them in their tracks, but didn’t do any damage to the ship.”
Renor called from his console. “We are receiving an incoming signal from the other vessel.”
“Ramothorran vessel.” An amiable-sounding voice came over the audio. “Cease fire and stand down or
we will send you into the ion-well, and you will be destroyed.”
“Nice guy,” I said. “Very straightforward. What’s an ion-well?”
“It is the big shiny thing,” Kol said.
Renor made an odd sound. “It is not a viable alternative to capture and enslavement.”
Kol opened a relay channel. “We will not stand down, slaver.” He nodded toward my console.
I put through adjusted targeting coordinates and transmitted the order to fire to Os.
An instant after the protorp left the tube, the Garnotans attacked with a scattered barrage of emitter
pulses. Uzlac’s ship rocked and rolled, and a huge explosion sent the ship veering forward toward the
ion-well.
“Damn it.” I checked my screen to be sure. “They blew the protorp before it covered a hundred klicks.
Osrea?” I had to repeat myself a few times before he return-signaled. “What’s going on down there?”
“Tube one release controls are not responding. I think the outer hatch is fused.” Osrea coughed.
“Conveyers are down as well. Nalek is loading tube two manually.”
Nalek was stronger than I’d thought. “Bypass what you can, and let me know when you’re ready.” I
turned to Renor. “If you can move this heap, I suggest you start making some defensive shifts. Now.”
“Helm and propulsion controls are not responding.” Renor’s hand sparkled as he pointed to the central
viewer. More pulse fire rocked the ship. “We are being driven into the well.”
Our defiant stand lasted all of about three minutes.
We got off one more protorp, but the slavers once again detonated it just outside the tube. That caused
substantial damage to launch bay level, forcing Nalek and Osrea to evacuate the deck.
I drained the paltry emitter charges by firing first at the slavers, then, at Ren’s suggestion, at the ion-well
looming in front of us.
“The shock wave may repel the ship away from it,” he told me as I fired.
A fraction of a second later, the ship rocked violently, but continued toward the well.
“Or not,” I muttered as I switched targeting back to the slavers.
The Garnotans dodged nearly every volley and were largely unaffected by the two I landed.
The closer we got to the ion-well, the more its gravity latched on to us. We were being dragged in.
In the meantime, Kol had ordered everyone to grab what weapons they could find and report to the
helm. Renor quietly kept trying to regain control of the ship, but the ion-well wasn’t taking no for an
answer.
“The helm is unresponsive.” Plas-Face moved back from the console. “There is nothing more I can do.”
The other crossbreeds arrived. Galena’s iridescent eyes grew huge as she saw the light filling the viewer,
while Danea hovered close to the nearest exit. Nalek and Osrea trudged in, both covered with grime and
still coughing.
Over the audio, the pleasant voice spoke again. “Prepare to be boarded for immediate evacuation.”
“Prepare to drop dead.” Fury made me hit a wall panel. They knew we had no choice, and I’d bet they
were chuckling about it. I went over to Ren’s console. “Can you fly into this well thing before they get a
launch to us?”
“We will be destroyed,” Danea said, suddenly right there on Renor’s other side.
“I’m not letting them run me to death in some alien arena.” I gave her the once-over. “What, do you want
to be a whore?”
Her white eyes narrowed. “We can fight them!”
“Yes, we can fight them,” Kol said, “but in this situation, we cannot prevail.” He got up and made an
eloquent gesture. “There is a launch on board. Those of you who choose this path may take it and
surrender to the Garnotans. It is possible that, in time, you may escape your enslavement.”
No one moved, and something frozen inside me turned to slush.
“Slavery is extremely overrated,” I said, and winked at Nal. “So is playing contact sports.”
Nalek regarded his huge hands. “I’ve always preferred building to digging.”
Galena, tears streaming down her face, gulped. “I would not make my owner many credits, I think.”
“Yes, you would,” Osrea said, then looked quickly at the deck. “Sorting components is boring.”
Renor got to his feet. “I would prove a… tedious laboratory specimen.”
“Think you I wish to be a prostitute?” Danea glared at everyone; then her hair settled down and she
slumped back against the wall panel. “Oh, very well. I still say we could have given them a memorable
battle.”
Kol made another of those elegant bows. “I am proud to name you all my kin. Renor.” He turned to the
viewer. “Fly the ship into the anomaly.”
Renor sent the last of our power into the stardrive, and initiated propulsion.
The nice guy from the slave ship suddenly became very agitated. “Your vessel cannot withstand the
forces within the ion-well.”
“We are aware of this,” Renor said, and made a slight adjustment to take us into the center of the
anomaly.
“You will all be destroyed.”
Osrea tapped the com console. “We know, slaver.”
“Stop immediately and we will retrieve you.”
I did the final honors. “Go mate with yourself, flesh peddler.”
As we watched the gleaming field expand to fill the viewer, Kol came to stand beside me. His voice was
amused. “Surely you could have offered something more insulting than… flesh peddler?”
I shrugged. “Birdie doesn’t need to hear that kind of language.” I didn’t object when one of his long arms
settled around my waist. I think I even leaned my head back against his shoulder. In formal Jorenian, I
said, “Your pardon, warrior.”
He rested his cheek against the top of my head. “No pardon is required, lady.”
I breathed deeply, wanting to remember his scent. This close to him, it was like walking through pine
trees in the middle of a storm.
Renor lifted his hands from the console. “Impact in ten seconds.”
When the ship entered the outer perimeter of the ion-well, the subsequent jolt sent everyone flying to land
on the deck, and shut down all internal power systems, so I didn’t get to see what happened. In the dark
I got as far as my knees before an excruciating force squeezed the breath from my lungs. The last thing I
remembered thinking was, Hull breach.
Then I died.
Sometime later, I opened my eyes and discovered I was still alive. Alive, but naked, in the dark, and
strapped down to a hard, cold sheet of some kind of metal.
My reaction was predictable. “Christ, I’m not dead.” I lifted my hea
d about an inch, but still saw nothing.
The old scratches across my chest hurt, too. Must have bumped them or something. Or something? “I’m
not dead, right?”
“You are alive, ClanSister.”
That was Nalek’s voice. I tried to lift my head higher, but the strap across my brow made it impossible.
“Nal? Big guy? That you?”
“Yes, I am here.” The smooth baritone sounded a little strained. “Jory, do you know where we are?”
“Not in the ion-well.” If this was heaven, Rijor had gotten it all wrong. “Otherwise, I don’t have a clue.
Are the others around?”
A faint yellow glow suddenly flared up off to my left. “What have you done to us, you stupid Terran
bitch?”
“Sparky’s still around,” I said, then assumed a conversational tone. “I haven’t done anything yet, you
cranky, foul-mouthed power outlet. But I’ll keep you updated.”
Groans and gasps began to erupt all around me. After a few minutes of confusion, Nalek performed a
roll call that verified we were all indeed present and accounted for.
No one knew what had happened; hitting the ion-well had knocked us all unconscious at the same time.
“I thought the ion-well was a bad thing,” I said to Ren. “We’re supposed to be hugging the stars or
whatever now.”
“It is, and we are.”
A strange sound made us shut up. There was a metallic snick, an unseen panel shooshed; then a low
hum rippled over my eardrums. It got louder. And closer.
“What is tha—”
It hit my chest and began slicing into me before I could form another word. The explosion of raw, tearing
pain made me arch up as a scream ripped from my throat. I fought it, but the pressure increased until it
punched through my skin and the muscles below it. Some kind of cutter… rotating in a circle…
Pain became unbearable agony. More darkness.
I didn’t want to wake up the next time, but someone’s foot landed in my ribs. Hard.
I grunted, clutched my side, and automatically curled into a ball. And got kicked in the back for my
efforts. The old reflexes snapped into play; I coiled over, got my feet under me, and pushed off my
forearms.
Standing up was a real treat, considering that I did it with legs that felt as if both knees had been
removed. Three problems became evident: I was still naked. Unfriendly alien faces surrounded me. I’d
been dumped in what appeared to be an enormous prison cell.
I gaped at my strange cell mates. “Where am I?”
No one answered. A meteor-sized fist swung out toward my face, making me duck and swear. I swiftly
backed up until my back hit bare stone. Looking down, I discovered a weird-looking bandage covered
most of my right breast.
“How did I get hurt?” I scanned the cell. “And, um, arrested?”
No one could or cared to speak my lingo. The ring of uglies stretched five mugs wide, all different
species of humanoids, and one oozing, dripping thing I didn’t even want to try to identify. Not one of
them appeared particularly fond of Terrans or Jorenians. They started forward, clamoring in different
languages, hands and claws and tentacles extended. Not for a handshake, either.
“Rhe avele!” someone shouted in a high, piercing voice, and the uglies broke and ran. A very large, even
uglier alien walked up but stopped about a foot away. “Owkn mia nic rhgea?”
“Nice to meet you too.” I jerked my head around. No sign of my family. An unfamiliar sensation of being
exposed made me frown. I was no prude. “Um, you speak Terran? Locega Jorenhai?”
“Speak some,” he said in broken Jorenian. “You new. I Truk.”
Was that his name, race, or occupation? I’d go for name.
“Greetings, Honored Truk,” I said, and bowed as if to a Ruling Council member. I guess he liked that,
from the way he snarled. “I am Jory Rask of Joren. Know you my people?”
“Joren. Blue flyers. Sell good.” Truk nodded his approval, then inspected me. “You not blue.”
“Only on the inside.” We were a hot ticket item. Marvelous. “My people who came with me? Are they
here, Honored One?”
He made an affirmative gesture, and hitched one of his scarred appendages back over his shoulder.
“There. All.”
I wasn’t going to twitch a toe until I had this guy completely on my side. The bizarre, unidentifiable
sensation of vulnerability—was I turning into a prude?—increased. “May I speak with them?”
He thought this over for a minute, then simply grabbed one of my arms and dragged me away from the
wall. From the sudden change in the fit of his ragged, filthy garment, he had other things on his mind.
“You Truk female.”
“She is my female,” I heard Kol say.
I was dragged around when the big alien swiveled to face Kol, who was standing in a deep pool of
shadow. Both guys were about the same size, but Truk didn’t have much in the way of claws, and Kol
had all of his ready and waiting. This seemed to impress the big alien.
I was distracted by what I could see of Kol. Like me, he was also completely naked.
“You female.” Tuk made a sound that might have been laughter, and shoved me across the space toward
Kol. My ClanBrother caught me with one arm. “Protect.”
“Hi, Kol.” My face smashed into his chest, and I found out he had the same bandaging I did. “Mind telling
me where we are?”
“Renor believes it to be a slave holding pit.” Kol backed away from Truk, still holding me against him.
“The others are over here. Danea has been injured.”
As we crossed the open cell area, I saw about thirty other species among the prisoners, making up
altogether over a hundred individuals in the pit. Some were naked; others had wrapped parts of
themselves with scraps of cloth. Odd thing, none of them had hair—even the ones that were supposed
to.
That was when I realized what was bugging me and grabbed my head with both hands. My completely
bald head.
“My hair! What happened to my hair?”
“They have removed it.” Kol yanked me back into a corner, where the other five Jorenians were
huddled. I reached up and swiped at his head, but found only bare scalp. “Mine and the others, as well.
They have also denuded Galena’s wings. Doubtless to mark us as new captives, or to control parasitic
infestation.”
“I’d rather have bugs in my hair. What happened? Did the Garnotans drag us out of the well after we lost
consciousness?”
He glanced at the other prisoners. “From our present circumstances, it would seem so.”
I moved away from him and surveyed the group. Since Galena, Kol, Danea, and I were the only ones
who had hair to start with, it wasn’t a shocking change. The nudity I ignored—I’d spent too many months
in a locker room to be embarrassed by a bunch of body parts. Though I couldn’t help but spot some
interesting variations all around.
That’s when I noticed Sparky’s condition. “What did they do to her?”
Nalek looked up from where he knelt beside Danea. “I do not know, Jory, but she is very ill.”
Delirious, from the sound of her moaning. I bent over and held a hand just above her brow. Her
corporeal field was inactive or drained, so I touched her. The skin under my palm felt dry and brittle.
“She’s burning up. We need to get some water. Ask Large and In Charge over there if he
can get us
some.”
“I will do it.” Renor moved from his position by the wall and went after Truk.
Nalek gently lifted Sparky up so I could check her for wounds. Under the bandage over her breast, I
discovered a nearly healed surgical scar. When I carefully pressed my palm against it, I felt a round, flat
object just under the skin. “There’s an implant of some kind in there.” I tore the bandage from my chest,
and found an identical, closed incision, and the same hard shape beneath it. “Do the rest of you have
these?”
Everyone checked. Everyone did.
I looked into her eyes, ears, and mouth, but saw no sign of bleeding. I couldn’t find anything else wrong
with her. “Did she go after someone, get smacked anywhere?”
“No.” Nalek shifted her limp form in his arms, then bent his head down closer to hers. “Jory, she is having