by Shona Husk
Perhaps they were both using each other. She almost believed that, except their kiss had been something tender that had shivered through her body like the delicate wings of a butterfly. There were no butterflies on Solitaire.
She sighed and made herself eat some more stew.
Conversation in the mess quieted.
Sienna glanced up to see why. Lieutenant Zane was in the mess. Why wasn’t he with the other officers?
He moved toward her table. She looked at what was left in her bowl, took one large mouthful and stood. Slowly, she made her way to the scullery, checking to see if he was following her. He was. Crap.
There was no way she was going to let him corner her alone. She waited near the piles of dirty dishes, watching him approach. He still had that smug, know-it-all expression. How had she ever found him attractive? His family was rich and he’d wooed her with talk of living in the towers. He’d made her feel like a princess … then he’d closed the doors and tried to trap her, to own her and control her.
That she’d signed on for another five years in the Army had pissed him off. But there was no way she was going to leave the Army unless she had a ring on her finger and a guarantee of a future. That hadn’t gone down well. She swallowed as he came within a few steps of her, remembering the press of his hands on her throat. The promise that she’d pay for defying him, as if she should have let him control her life just because they were dating. Maybe that was how it worked for women living in the towers on Earth.
“I need to speak to you, Corporal.” Zane flashed what passed for a smile on his face.
“Sir?” He liked being called Sir, and never missed an opportunity to remind people that he outranked them.
He glanced behind him at the mess, where several people were still eating. “In private.”
“Sir, you came to the mess to find me. And I think you know that I won’t go anywhere alone with you.”
His face contorted. “It’s because of you that I am here, you little bitch.” His voice was little more than a whisper, yet he still managed to make it menacing.
“Ditto, Sir.” She smiled and tried to look calm. A bead of sweat trickled down her spine and her stomach scrunched up, threatening to heave up the stew she’d just forced down. If she vomited on his super-shiny boots she was pretty sure Zane would lose it.
“Don’t piss me off, Corporal. I know all about your little escapades with 1789. If you’re that desperate, perhaps we should pick up where we left off?” He touched her throat, right over the faint scars his nails had left. Most people didn’t know they were there, as they were always hidden by the collar of her uniform. Alex hadn’t noticed them … perhaps she was only aware of them because that night was engraved in her mind.
Her gaze lifted to the scar running through his eyebrow and down his eyelid. She’d been trying to gouge his eyes out. If she’d succeeded, he wouldn’t be here messing with her life.
“I thought you had a lover, Sir?” She was pressing his buttons—she knew his lover had dumped him. Had she also learned the hard way that Zane was charming on the outside and a snake on the inside? A real Jekyll and Hyde.
His features hardened as he stepped back. “I’m watching you, Corporal. If you bring the Army into disrepute there will be punishment. You wouldn’t want to arrive at Unity wearing the wrong color.”
“With respect, Sir, I’m not doing anything different to many of the other enlisted men.” She’d love to go over Zane’s head, but doing that would only enrage him … and she would have to explain why she was bypassing Zane. She didn’t want people to know about their history.
“What did I ever see in you?” His lips pulled into a sneer of disgust. “You’re nothing but a slum-dwelling slut.” He turned on his heel and left her standing there.
She drew in a breath. That could’ve gone worse. Zane was right about one thing, she had been a slum dweller. Most of the people in the fleet had been. Alex had been. He’d worked on the towers where the rich hid from the problems of the real world.
On Solitaire there would be no slums and no towers. People like Zane would find that they had very little power, as no one would have anything. She was well aware the credits she was getting paid with wouldn’t be worth much on Solitaire. A few extra provisions at the start, more to spend and barter with as things got settled. But ultimately, it was a person’s contribution that would count. Medical personnel would matter. The likes of Zane would find themselves at the bottom of the ladder fast.
A smile curved her lips as she watched him walk toward the nearest door. He might be her boss, but he didn’t get to dictate who she slept with or who she saw. And until there was a direct order that Army personnel weren’t to fuck prisoners, she would keep seeing Alex.
That order was never going to come. Even the General in charge knew that for life in Unity to survive, people needed to form bonds and pair up. That didn’t mean she was looking at Alex in that way. No, he still had four years to serve after they reached Solitaire. He was just some onboard fun. There’d be plenty of other available guys for her to choose from in the colony.
The old urge to find someone high up and do better for herself—her mother’s words—echoed in her head. She was still playing by Earth rules and thinking like a slum chick.
She needed to start thinking about what she was going to do on Solitaire.
What did she want her new life to be like?
She had no idea. She’d never let herself imagine that they’d even get there.
Chapter Five
The door shut and locked, then the lights went out. Another day over. One step closer to being free. Alex lay on his bed, eyes closed as if he was ready for sleep. He wasn’t—most days it took a while for his mind to settle. Though now it wasn’t the reality of prison life or the lessons regarding Solitaire that were keeping him awake. No, it was something much more pleasant. He smiled in the dark. No one was watching and no one would question why he was grinning. In these moments Sienna was there, in his thoughts and in his dreams. He was like a teenage boy after getting laid for the first time.
“Heard you got some pussy,” one of his cellmates said.
He didn’t want to drag the memory of what they’d done into here. It didn’t belong here. “Just following orders.”
Which was kind of the truth. But her orders were ones he would gladly follow.
The two guys laughed. “I bet you followed them real good.”
He remembered her face, her lips parted. The way she kept his cuffs magnetized so he couldn’t touch her. To her, he was a con. Someone who couldn’t be trusted … yet she’d kissed him goodbye. He pressed his lips together. That kiss had meant something. Hadn’t it?
She was fucking with his mind.
“Yeah I did.” Alex turned over, keeping his back to the wall.
Three to a cell. It wasn’t too bad. Better than on Earth, where there’d been six or eight, and mattresses on the floor. Most people were in for a minor infraction, but once in prison they could be put to work on the farms as cheap labor. It was a scam. Make rules that the slum dwellers couldn’t live by, then jail them and make them work for three crappy meals and a bed in a cell.
One day they’d rise up and pull down the towers, but he wouldn’t be there to see it. He touched his chest and inhaled. He hadn’t been aware he’d had chem-lung—not many people were, until they got a cough that they couldn’t shake, or a wheeze that lasted past winter. He wouldn’t have lived long enough to see the uprising. Average life expectancy for a slum dweller was only fifty. He’d been right on target. Now his lungs were clear and he had a chance. If he had kids, they’d have a chance.
After a few minutes one of the guys slid out of bed. Alex tensed. There was movement in the bunk below him, then softly murmured words, interspaced with kissing.
Great. It was one of those nights. But he couldn’t begrudge them. He just wished he didn’t have to listen. At first they had invited him to join them, but after Alex had politely de
clined three times, they’d stopped asking. No matter how long he was in prison, he wasn’t experimenting with men.
His hand slid under the pillow and he felt around for the peach stone. It was firm and rough between his fingers. The noise below him grew louder, even though they were trying to keep quiet.
One year of travel plus four years on Solitaire. Did he really think that Sienna would keep seeing him? He had nothing to offer. By the time his sentence was up he’d be forty-two. She’d be able to find someone younger, and with better prospects.
The men in the bunk below came with a grunt. The cell was filled with the musky scent of sex and the tang of sweat. One of them got up and padded toward the corner that passed for the bathroom. Sienna had a door on her bathroom. It was these small degradations that chafed the most. Alex fisted the peach stone and brought it to his nose. He was sure it still smelled like peach … for the moment. How long until no scent remained?
How long until Sienna grew tired of him?
She’d picked him out of all the men she saw in prison and in the Army. That had to count for something. Didn’t it?
Did it? He hadn’t seen her today … but then, he didn’t really expect to see her every day. And he wasn’t going to walk past the med station just to catch a glimpse.
Life had taught him two things. Never rely on anyone, and always bleed every opportunity dry. He pushed the stone under his pillow. He needed to sleep. He was fighting tomorrow, but the promise of a token earned in the Rounds didn’t excite him. There was nothing on Siren that he wanted to buy.
The atmosphere around the ring was different today. As Alex scanned the crowd he realized why. Lieutenant Zane was watching. Alex wondered how many of the fighters had been hand-picked and how many were volunteers. He’d never bothered to ask, even though he knew several of the men in passing. If he didn’t want to admit to being coerced, he suspected they wouldn’t either.
The crowd still bet and cheered on each fight, but there was a hunger that hadn’t been there before. When blood was spilled they seemed to celebrate more. Was a clean fight no longer enough to sate their boredom? Tension crawled up his spine and he flexed his fingers. If there was a way he could back out of this fight, he would.
Someone wiped the ring and the previous two fighters moved away, one bleeding from the mouth. A tooth skittered across the floor and was pocketed by a man in blue Air Force fatigues. Flying the ship backwards and forwards must be a shitty job. Two years in space for one return trip. But Alex was willing to bet they got bonuses for it. Danger pay, or something, the military would call it, the way submariners got an extra allowance. All that money and nowhere to spend it. They’d be rich when they got home.
He turned his attention back to the ring as his number was called. Shirt off, smile at the crowd—the usual. He had his low-key entry down pat. The other man pumped his fists into the air as though he’d already won. 4056 was a show-off. It shouldn’t be a hard fight.
The fight began and Alex’s focus narrowed to the man in the ring with him. The token was going to be his—he’d buy his own damn peach. Something moved in 4056’s hand. He’d had a shiv concealed in his fist. Alex jumped back to avoid the slice. No one was stopping the fight and he didn’t have the luxury of pausing and looking around to see if anyone had noticed. The only weapons he had were his metal cuffs and his elbows. As 4056 danced forward, Alex went to the side. He’d never been forced out of the ring yet … would losing be safer this time? He blocked another strike and gave 4056 a solid elbow to the ribs. He hoped something cracked.
Alex realized too late that the shiv had switched hands as it slammed down, just missing his collarbone and piercing his chest. He staggered back as blood poured down the front of his singlet and splattered on the ground. The sharpened piece of plastic stuck out of him. He put pressure around the wound and watched the blood flow over his fingers. He knew better than to pull the shiv out. Blood oozed in time with his heartbeat. It was reassuring. He’d seen arterial blood before on a building site. He’d live for a few more minutes. Alex took a step back, still watching his blood run over his hand, trickle down his arm and hit the floor, in brilliant red stars.
As chaos erupted Alex looked up. Lieutenant Zane caught his eye, smiled, and then left the rec room.
In his next breath Alex was being taken to the floor, his wrists were locked together and someone else applied pressure. People were yelling. Around him there was cursing and orders and nothing he could do. He didn’t want to die on the deck of Siren. Zane’s smile replayed in his mind. He’d been set up.
Sienna’s voice carried over the noise, then she knelt at his side. “Don’t you dare tell me you slipped and fell on it, 1789.”
“The other fighter had concealed the shiv. He’s got forty-eight in the Box,” said the guard who had been putting pressure on the wound.
Sienna cut Alex’s singlet and did a very quick assessment. She ripped open a packet of something and poured the granules on the wound. The bleeding stopped. But she hadn’t pulled the plastic shiv out of him.
“Right. 1789 needs to go to the hospital for a scan before the shiv is removed. I think it’s nicked a major blood vessel. Another two inches toward the middle and you’d have been dead before I got here.”
“Can you do it in the med station? If he goes to hospital there’ll be questions.”
Sienna glared at the other soldier. “So tell the truth and say he got stabbed. I’m not equipped for internal surgery and that’s what he’ll need.”
More swearing. More orders. But Alex was losing track of what was being said.
Her hand was on his face. “Hey. I’m going to give you a shot for the pain. It’s going to make you fuzzy but you’ll be straight in for surgery after a scan.” She held up a needle. “Clear?”
“Clear, Corporal.” He held her gaze. Her face softened for a moment. Then she stuck him with the needle. Whatever was in there was cold, and it stung as it slid through his vein.
He barely noticed when they put him on a stretcher and carried him out of the rec room. The lights on the ceiling were bright, so he closed his eyes. He was sure her hand touched his for a brief moment. And he was sure he heard his name, not his number.
But after that, he had no idea.
He woke up in a bed, cuffs locked onto the railing on each side and the left side of his chest aching and burning. It took him a moment to realize he was in the hospital. There were three other beds in the room, but only one was occupied, by a guy with both legs in casts. Judging by the metal on his wrists, he was also a prisoner. Guess civilians didn’t want to share a room with cons unless they had to.
It was almost too quiet in here. He could hear the other guy breathing. He also realized that if someone came in to finish the job—because he was sure that Zane had meant for him to bleed out—he’d be helpless.
How long had he been asleep for? He glanced down and saw that the wound had been glued closed and covered with a clear dissolvable bandage. Sienna had mentioned internal damage and surgery. How many stitches were inside? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
He tipped his head back and closed his eyes.
This was not fitting in with his plan of keeping his head down and working hard. Fuck. He’d pretty much shot that plan out of the sky.
At the sound of soft footsteps, he opened his eyes. He didn’t want people creeping up on him. A smile formed as Sienna stood next to him.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“No. I think he is, though.”
Sienna walked over and checked the guy’s chart. “Medicated for the pain.”
She pulled a small bundle out of her pocket and placed it on his bed. “Blueberries. Not many, but that’s all I could bring you.”
“I didn’t even know we had them onboard.” What else were they keeping a secret from the prisoners?
“Not even I get them very often.”
“You should eat them.”
She shook her head. “I get mor
e fresh fruit than you. Besides, I think it’s my fault you’re here.”
“You didn’t stab me.”
She picked up a berry and held it to his lips. When he didn’t take it, she raised one eyebrow, and waited until he complied. He opened his mouth and bit the berry. It was a tiny explosion of sweetness.
Almost worth getting stabbed for.
“Someone I used to know confronted me yesterday. He knew we’d been together and he wasn’t happy.” She toyed with the blueberries instead of looking at him.
“An ex?”
She nodded. “An officer.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “Zane.” He almost mouthed the name, unwilling to say it aloud in case it summoned him.
She nodded again, and then pulled her uniform collar aside so he could see three faint marks. Old scars. He’d seen them in her room but had assumed she’d gotten them while in the Army. But she wasn’t showing him war wounds. These marks were personal.
Had Zane left those marks?
He frowned. She placed a finger to his lips, then fed him another berry.
“It’s a short and spiteful story that I will tell you later.” She glanced at the guy in the other bed before looking back at Alex. “I didn’t expect him to go this far.”
That made two of them. But Sienna and Zane … he didn’t even want to think about that. “Does he want you back?” While he didn’t want to be caught in that mess, he didn’t want Sienna with a man who’d obviously hurt her, either.
She laughed, but there was no joy in it. “No. He just wants to make sure that I never forget he can ruin my life.”
That seemed to be Zane’s favorite pastime. He liked to make people jump to his orders, and as soon as he found out something useful, he tightened the screws. Zane had used him to get to Sienna. Alex knew that it wouldn’t matter who Sienna was seeing, Zane would find a way to destroy whatever happiness she found. How could someone be that malicious?
“What can I do?” He needed to do something. Pricks like Zane couldn’t be left to run free and make hell for everyone else.