39. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
V artan
I should be worrying about my match. It doesn’t matter that no weapons are allowed, people can die in a Cestus match. Contestants are unscrupulous, they can sneak weapons in and hide them in the sand. A fall can go wrong and break a neck. It’s not unheard of.
Instead of worrying about my match, though, I’m fretting over Lyra.
“The Fool’s Errand should be here soon. Captain Zar promised he’d send his mate, Anya, and another human female to fetch you. He didn’t want you to be afraid of the males. I know all these people. They’re kind and have good hearts.
“Shadow, one of the males on board, has drawn up papers of manumission and I’ve signed them over the computer. That means you’re legally a free female. You understand this, right?”
She nods.
“Say it, Lyra. Tell me you know you’re free.”
“I’m free.”
“And not a pet,” I prompt.
“I’m free; I’m not a pet.”
“Good. If they don’t arrive by the time I leave, I want you to wait in this room. Don’t leave.”
“Okay.”
“The games will be on vid. I don’t want you to watch.”
She’s been perched on the side of the bed, pretending to inspect her nails until my last comment. Now she’s staring at me.
“I can’t watch your match?”
“It’s dangerous. I don’t want you worrying about me. I’ll be fine. Tell me you won’t watch.”
She says nothing, just goes back to examining her nails.
“Tell me,” my voice is firm.
“I’ll never lie to you again, Vartan. If I can watch your match, I will.”
This irritates me. No, it angers me, then that disappears. For possibly the first time in her life, she refused an order.
“I respect you for that. But I wish you wouldn’t.” She certainly won’t like what she sees. I don’t know why I care. I’ll never see her again, and she already knows I’m a selfish dracker .
When I’m dressed and ready to go, I grab my pack and walk to the door. “I’m leaving now Lyra. I wish you the best. I promise you the people on the Fool’s Errand will treat you well.
“Our two ships usually travel on separate business. We meet up sometimes. The females want to celebrate the next big Earth holiday together. When the two ships connect, I’ll stay on the Devil’s Playground so you won’t have to worry about running into me. You’ll be fine.”
I feel so dracking guilty every time I look at her innocent face, but I can’t keep my gaze from her. I’m going to miss her.
She rushes across the room and hurtles into my arms before I can tell her not to.
“Vartan, I don’t hate you. The whole thing was my fault. I want to see you again. We can work this out.”
I hate lying and seldom do it, but as I hug her tightly, I say, “I’ll see what I can do,” even as I vow inside my mind to never see her again. Certainly every time she sees me she’ll think of the terrible thing I did to her in this very room.
“You’re a good female. You’ll do fine. I’ll write you a letter in one annum’s time and you’ll be able to read it.” With that, I set her away from me and leave.
Lyra
I don’t know how my heart can be breaking when I’ve only known Vartan a handful of days, and most of those he was wandering the underground. But the hollow, achy feeling in my chest confirms it.
My clothes are packed. I glance at the wrist-comm Vartan bought me yesterday so the people from the Fool’s Errand can contact me when they dock. While I wait, I watch the channel where the gladiatorial games will be displayed.
Right now, there are pictures of people of all species and all ages streaming into the stadium. They look excited, expectant. Mistress used to call it bloodlust. I pray Vartan stays safe.
It seems like forever, but finally, a female voice hails over my comm.
“Lyra? This is Anya. I’m from Earth, just like you. I bet you can’t wait to see a familiar face. My friend Petra and I are outside your door. Vartan said you might be afraid. Open the door when you feel ready. Take your time. We’ll wait.”
I’m not the female I was a few days ago when I panicked as I waited in that cell before the auction. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, and this seems like a good time to start. I grab my pack and stride to the door.
There are two females who look like me standing across the threshold when I open the door. They don’t bombard me with words or step forward. They just smile and nod, waiting for me to make the first move.
As we make introductions, I get a sense of who they are. It’s clear they mean me no harm. Vartan was right about that. Anya has curly brown hair that falls to her shoulders. Petra has blue eyes, but it’s her hair that catches my attention. Half her head is bald, the other is in vibrant shades of blue and purple that are plaited in thin braids all over that side of her head.
“Ready to meet our mates?” Anya asks. “My mate might look scary, but he’s a pussycat.” She giggles, although I don’t get the joke, perhaps because I don’t know what a pussycat is.
“This is Shadow,” Petra says, her voice soft and melodic. A muscular male with a mechanical eye and arm steps forward. He looks to be of the Earth race, but perhaps he’s part robot? He nods, but his face doesn’t look like it smiles much.
“And this is my mate, Zar. He’s the captain of our ship,” Anya says.
He eases into my field of vision one small step at a time as if he doesn’t want to terrify me. He’s furry and looks like a menacing jungle animal. He has golden fur and a darker mane around his face. He seems more animal than humanoid.
He appears even scarier when he gets closer and his lips tip into his version of a smile. His long canine teeth make his smile fearsome. But it’s a smile nonetheless.
Because I can tell he’s worried about scaring me, I take a step forward and say, “Pleased to meet you, Captain Zar. And you too, Shadow.”
The most terrifying-looking person I’ve ever met was Vartan. After that, everything else is easy.
The females flank me as we walk through the hotel, and they sit on either side of me in the hover. When we arrive at the Fool’s Errand , I’m fascinated. I’ve never been in a space vessel before. I look around me in wonder as we traverse the stark metal hallways that are brightly lit from above.
“Our first introduction to space travel was different from yours,” Anya says. “They placed us in slave collars and forced us through hallways at the end of a shock-stick. You’re going to be safe here. We’ll help you every step of the way.”
We’re in what must be the dormitory wing. As we stand outside of a metal sliding door, Anya says, “This room is yours. You can lock it from the inside. You’re in charge of yourself here. Your body, your room—you make all the decisions.”
Only a former slave would know this was just what I needed to hear.
This room is about as big as the hotel room I shared with Vartan. It’s furnished similarly with a bed, dresser, table, and two chairs. There’s a refresher off to the side.
My tummy does a quick flip when I consider this is my new home. In my old life, I never wondered about my future. I figured I’d live with Master and Mistress forever. It never occurred to me they’d die at some point and I’d have to start life over again. Well, here I am.
“Want some alone time?” Anya asks softly. “Would you like us to introduce you to some of the other women? Everyone’s excited to meet you, but we realize it can be overwhelming. We’re like a big family, which is great. Except we can be a bit too loud and tease a bit too often and gladiators can be a bit too . . . gladiator. Which is to say they fart and talk dirty and walk around naked because they have no boundaries.”
When my glance darts to her, my eyes wide in question, she amends, “They’ll have boundaries with you, Lyra. No one will hurt you. They just have no boundaries when they tease each other.”
A loudspeaker in my room makes a snapping sound, and a female voice comes over it. “Hey all, Callista here. I’ve been asked to tell you Vartan from the Devil’s Playground is about to start his match. We’ll be streaming it in the dining hall. Maddie made Pinnacle cake to celebrate his win. Which we all know is a foregone conclusion because . . . well, he’s one of us and he’s gonna win.”
I love hearing his name out of her lips in between the words of her strange language. Luckily, my subdural translator works, but his name is like a touchstone for me. It reminds me our time together was real and not a dream.
“Can I watch?” I ask anxiously.
“Sure. Did you two become close?” Anya motions for me to toss my pack on the bed and follow her down the hallway.
It’s easy not to answer. We’re too busy hurrying down hallway after hallway.
I would never have chosen to meet everyone on board right now. I’m so shy and have never been around many people other than Master and Mistress. I would have much preferred to stay in my room, but I want to see Vartan.
“This is Lyra,” Anya announces when we enter the room. “She’s going to sit with Petra and me. She’s lovely and new here and wants to watch the match. She has every intention of meeting all of you, but maybe not today. Let’s give her some space, shall we?”
“Thanks,” I whisper to her. I’ll meet everyone in time, but right now it would be overwhelming.
There are fifteen or twenty people in this room that’s filled with long tables flanked with chairs on two sides. There’s a beautiful picture, well it’s a flat wooden sculpture, that takes up most of one wall. At the museum, they called it a bas-relief. It depicts a hillside covered with blue flowers. It’s beautiful.
“Females and males,” says the announcer on the huge screen. “Our next match features Vartan from planet Dauphus fighting as a free male. His opponent is Otol from Charth, owned by Sandor of Monrovia.
“ Motherdracker ,” a large red male in front of me says. “A motherdracking Charthian.”
“Mean assholes,” a huge male with a beard says. He catches my eye, winks at me, and says, “Hi, I’m Dax. Don’t mind me,” then faces forward and protests in a deep booming voice, “He’s a head taller than Vartan.”
“And those spines,” the red male says, “on his shoulders, wrists, shins, and chin will make it hard to grapple.” He glances at me and says, “I’m Stryker. Maddie, my mate, will be the first to tell you I have no filter. Don’t let it bother you.”
I nod at both of them. They’re not nearly as scary as Vartan, so I don’t worry about their size or their loud demeanor. Of course, the fact that I’m sandwiched between Petra and Anya helps me feel safe too.
I inspect the Charthian and see what they mean. He’s larger than Vartan, which means his arm span is longer. And those spiky things all over his body are natural weapons. Vartan came equipped with only his strength and courage.
Horns sound, which must signal the fight is to begin, because Otol runs at Vartan.
“This is Axxios,” a male voice rumbles over the loudspeaker in the ceiling. “We’ll be taking off in a few minimas . I thought we’d wait until after the match.”
“He’s one of our pilots,” Anya whispers.
I’m not really paying attention because I’m too engrossed in the match. That is, when I’m not covering my eyes with my palms.
Vartan said his match would be fought without weapons, but he didn’t say his opponent would be a walking arsenal. Every time Vartan gets in close enough to do damage, Otol’s spikes slice or puncture him.
Each time I open my eyes to peek, more blood is running down Vartan’s limbs. Otol has backhanded him, slicing his face and chest with the spikes on his wrists, and has kicked him repeatedly so that the spikes on his shins have cut Vartan’s shins and calves to ribbons.
The others in the room who had been so loud and optimistic to begin with, are quiet except to occasionally grunt when Vartan is on the receiving end of a particularly painful kick or punch. It’s as if they’re receiving the blow, too.
Vartan keeps fighting, but he’s stumbling, covered in his own blood.
“Give the sign!” one of the males shouts at the screen.
Stryker says, “Why doesn’t he give the dracking terrin sign?”
“ Terrin sign?” I ask Anya in a whisper.
“If the gladiator puts his fist to his chest then holds it high in the air, it’s the sign for the judges to stop the fight.”
“The sign,” I whisper fervently to the screen. “Give the terrin sign.” But Vartan fights on, though his knees are sagging, and blood is everywhere, even dripping into his eyes from where Otol slammed his vicious spikes into Vartan’s forehead.
Vartan’s knees hit the ground and Otol, instead of backing off which would be the sporting thing to do, steps forward.
“Get her out of here,” it’s Zar’s growly voice from behind me. “Anya! She shouldn’t see this. She looks scared to death.”
My head is craned toward the vid screen as Anya and Petra pull me from my chair. Even as we approach the door, I turn my head so I can see what happens next.
Anya steps between me and the screen as Otol approaches Vartan for what might be a killing blow.
“Oh,” the announcer says as if he himself was just struck. “This is serious.”
“His friends from his ship are across the sector. He has a friend with him, Maximus, but he’ll need a doctor,” I tell Anya, my heart pounding. “Can you . . .?”
“Take her to her room,” Anya tells Petra as she runs back to the dining hall.
The hallways seem like a maze as Petra hurries me to my cabin. She uses my hand to palm the plate at the door.
“They’ll stop the match, Lyra. That’s how it works.”
My breath huffs out of me as I drop into a chair. I can’t think for a moment. My eyes are open and I watch Petra slip into the seat across from me, but no other thoughts fly through my brain.
“Hear that?” Petra says as she squeezes my hand in hers. “That’s the bay doors opening. Someone’s going to retrieve Vartan.”
She tries to look optimistic and upbeat, but her gaze flies from mine. It strikes me that neither of us knows whether they’re going to return with a live male or a dead body.
I swallow, then ask, “Could they keep us informed? Can you ask if he’s . . . alive?” I had to force myself to say that last word.
She whispers into her wrist-comm and seems relieved, then smiles at me and says, “Maximus says he’s alive, Lyra. They’re on their way. Dr. Drayke is a gifted physician. He’s serious and talented and compassionate. He doesn’t wait in medbay for something like this, he’ll be at the bay doors, prepared for the moment your male comes aboard.”
She thought this would reassure me, but her words ‘for something like this’ ring in my ears. I may have never been to school, but I know ‘this’ means either ‘serious’ or ‘deadly’.
There’s a knock at the door and I’m too distracted to know what to do. Petra tells the door to open; it reveals a tall, muscular female, a human, standing across the threshold.
“I came to help. Can I come in?”
Petra looks at me, a question on her face. I shrug. Decisions are hard for me during my best moment. I certainly can’t think straight now.
The female strides in and since there are only two chairs, she sits on the bed.
“I’m Nova. I’m from Earth, but for my first two years off my planet I was a gladiator.”
Perhaps she knows I’m barely able to pay attention, because she gives me a long moment to absorb her words. She was a gladiator? She did what Vartan just did? Risked her life? I can’t even picture it.
Maybe I said that out loud, because she raises her shirtsleeve to show me something. At first, all I see is a pretty tattoo that rings her upper arm. When I look closer, I see a thin red scar under all the aqua ink.
“My arm was sliced clean off in my last match.” She lances me with a hard look to ensure I believe her.
I nod even as I wonder what kind of courage it must have taken to enter the arena knowing she might not leave except feet first.
“How awful,” I say.
“Yes. Being a gladiator was awful for me because I didn’t want to be one. I didn’t like to fight, but was forced to do so. Vartan doesn’t hate to fight. He and I talked about it once when he was spotting me in the ludus .”
I arch my eyebrow in question, and she clarifies, “We were lifting weights in the gymnasium. You learn early in training how to tolerate the pain. That’s what I’m here to tell you, Lyra. He knows not only how to tolerate it, but how much he can take. You left the room before he gave the terrin sign, but he did give it. He knows his limits.
“He gave the sign, and they stretchered him off. Shadow and Stryker are on their way to retrieve him as we speak. They’ll bring him on board, and my mate Drayke and I will patch him up. Drayke’s a doctor, he’s trained me as his nurse. Healing people is what we do.”
“Vartan will be all right?”
“I don’t have a crystal ball, but I would wager on it because he’s a consummate gladiator and wouldn’t push himself harder than he could manage. When he arrives on board, Drayke and I will do everything it takes to treat him. Take a breath. Try to trust me.”
I breathe deep, but the trusting part is harder.
“You’ll hear a high whine and a vibrating grind when the doors open upon their arrival. Promise me you’ll look at the clock and give Drayke and me half an hour to work on him and clean him up. Then you can come to medbay and hold his hand. Okay?”
“What’s half an hour?” I ask, wanting to be able to follow her directions to the smallest detail.
“Petra will tell you. I’m leaving for medbay to prepare.”
The door whooshes open for her, then closes, leaving Petra and me at the table, her hand warmly clutching mine. I look down at our hands in surprise. I don’t remember her taking it.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” I ask, desperate for reassurance.
“I’m a hairdresser, not a doctor, Lyra. But Nova’s optimistic. That means a lot. She doesn’t soft-peddle things. She would never lie.”
Time drags on forever. Still no sound of the bay doors opening.
“You care for him a lot, don’t you?” Petra asks.
I nod without even thinking of the consequences.
“Vartan and I have only known each other for six months, but I took an instant liking to him,” she says. “He’s honest and selfless. I’m not sure he likes being a gladiator as much as Nova thinks he does, but he fights for the benefit of our group. He keeps us all flying, keeps us one step ahead of the Feds. He’s a good male.”
Vartan had arranged for me to come aboard alone, so I don’t understand how everyone on board knows how much I care for him.
Petra doesn’t have to tell me when the bay doors open, I hear the whine and grind, then glance at her.
“Tell me when it’s been half an hour.”
A half-hour must be a long time because the wait seems like forever. Finally, though, she leads me through the metal hallways not nearly as fast as I’d like. When we arrive, I barely have a moment to settle my nerves before the doors open and I hurry through.
I want to look at Vartan, but it’s as if my eyes can’t find him through the camouflage of all the medical instruments he’s hooked up to.
Vartan is unconscious, with a sheet covering his body to his armpits. All I can see of him is his horns, face, top of his chest, shoulders, arms, and hands.
“I’m Dr. Drayke,” a blue male in a deep blue jumpsuit says. “Your male took a bad beating.”
Beating? Now that I can see him close up, it was far more than a beating. Dozens of places on his flesh are pierced in irregular patterns. Otol’s spikes made a starburst pattern everywhere they hit. It’s gruesome. I can only imagine how much worse it looks on the parts of his body that are covered.
“Will he be okay?” I ask, hearing my question as if it’s coming from someone else, someone far away.
“He’ll be fine, Miss Lyra. He looks bad, but his condition isn’t life-threatening. I’ve given him painkillers, antibiotics, and a sedative. Why don’t you rest in your room? Nova or I will call you when he wakes.”
Something has changed deep inside me since they thrust me out onto that stage only a handful of days ago. The old Lyra would already be out the medbay door, walking reluctantly to her cabin. I’m not that Lyra anymore.
I grab the small metal chair from the corner of the room and drag it next to Vartan’s bed, then sit as if I’m a queen on her throne. After straightening my spine, I spear the kind doctor with my gaze and say, “I’ll wait here, Dr. Drayke. Thank you.”
“As you wish, Miss Lyra. Why don’t you tell Miss Petra what you like to eat? I’m certain we can bring you some Earth food. What is it you call it? Comfort food? Frenched fries? Cinnamon bread?”
“Cinnamon toast,” Nova corrects. “What would you like, Lyra? Now that you know Vartan will recover, you’re probably hungry.”
“I’ve never been to Earth. I was born on Hyperion. I’m still discovering what I like to eat. You pick.”
A short time later, I’m alone in medbay with Vartan. I touch him softly as a bird’s wing with the pad of my finger as I trace the star-shaped wounds on his face. Once so foreign, that face is dear to me now.
“Vartan, you should have given the sign so much earlier. The match wasn’t fair. What were you trying to prove?”
The answer hits me with the force of an ion rocket. I told him I would be watching. Was he proving something to me ? His pet? Doesn’t he know I already think he hung the moon? No, I give my head a shake, not his pet. I still can’t quite believe I’m free.
After careful inspection, I decide the hand on the other side of his body has sustained less damage than the one nearest me. I bring my chair to that side, gently clasp his hand in mine, close my eyes, and nap.
I wake with a jolt when Petra brings lunch. “We brought you all the comforts of Earth. The Fool’s Errand’s version of a Big Mac, fries, and a chocolate shake.”
Petra’s appearance still startles me. I’m not sure if it’s the bald half of her head or the pink and purple on the other. “Does hair not grow on half your head?” I blurt. Then tip my head down in shame. Why did I ask such a rude question?
“I shave it. I cut hair for a living, or at least I did on Earth. I do it on the Fool’s Errand to be of service. I have to say, though, your long brown hair really pops against your pale skin and blue eyes. You don’t need my help in the hair or makeup department unless you’re dying for a change.”
She wants to shave my head? “No, thank you.”
“We’re all trying not to overwhelm you. I know what it’s like to show up here when everyone already knows each other. I thought it would be hard to fit in when I first arrived.
“We’re an odd bunch, don’t get me wrong.” She tosses her head as she laughs. “I know what we look like. And sound like. The guys are big and brash, and we women kick ass and take names. But on the bright side, we’d do anything for each other. We saved Vartan’s ass, didn’t we?” She beams a smile at me. I think it’s the widest, most welcoming grin I’ve ever received.
“Thanks, Petra.” I want to tell her not to bother with me. That I’ll figure out where the dining hall is and forage for my own food from now on. Part of me wants to tell her I’m a pet and I should be naked, and she should be ashamed to have anything to do with me. But I don’t say any of it. “Thanks,” I say, “it would be nice to have a friend.”
Shortly after she leaves, Vartan groans, then opens his eyes. Well, the one eye that isn’t swollen shut.
I imagine he’ll wonder where he is, so I lean over for his good eye to see me, then explain, “The Charthian hurt you badly. A couple of males from the Fool’s Errand picked you up from the arena and brought you here. Dr. Drayke patched you up. He says you’ll be fine.”
“I feel like I was hit by a hover.” His words sound funny because both lips are swollen.
“All the males wondered why you didn’t give the terrin sign, Vartan. It obviously wasn’t a fair match.”
“I thought I could fight through the pain.”
“I’m glad you’re in one piece. I . . .” There’s so much more I want to tell him, but I doubt he wants to hear it. When I glance back at him, his eyelid has shuttered closed. Good. I’m sure he needs the sleep.
Dr. Drayke has checked on Vartan twice now, each time telling me he’ll be fine and suggesting I go to my cabin to nap.
Later, Captain Zar himself comes in with his mate Anya.
“Vartan!” Zar tries to wake him.
“I’ll leave,” I say as I rise, assuming I shouldn’t be here.
“Stay, Lyra. I need to speak to you both.”
When Vartan awakens, Captain Zar thumps his fist on his chest and dips his chin to his chest. “You fought well and bravely, Vartan. Perhaps too bravely, my friend.” His words hold a hint of criticism, but he touches Vartan’s shoulder in respect. “We’re en route to Galgon. Steele has a match there, and we didn’t have the luxury to wait on Hyperion for your comrades in the Devil’s Playground to pick you up. Your friend Maximus is waiting for them to retrieve him. I’m sorry to say you’re with us until the two ships meet up again.”
I sag in relief against the back of my chair, but try not to let it show. I’m thrilled that Vartan and I will be on this ship together, but he won’t be happy about it.
“The doctor says we can show you to your cabin. He’ll come by to check on you several times a day, but your wounds, although numerous, were superficial.”
“Thank you,” Vartan says. “Last time our two ships met up, some of the males asked for training in the long knife. As soon as I’m in fighting shape, I’ll organize that. I’ll pull my weight.”
“You always do, Vartan. Just get better, that’s all we want from you. The last thing you need to worry about is pulling your weight right now.”
“Zar, if you can get the big guy in a hover-chair, I’ll escort him to his room,” Anya says. “It’s next to Lyra’s.”
Vartan
Every male on board has come by my room to wish me well and ask why I didn’t give the sign. As I inspect my image in the mirror, I ask myself the same question. I wish I had an answer.
There’s a knock at my door. I glance at the clock on the face of the computer. It’s late. I wonder what the problem is now. It seems nothing is easy lately.
“Come.”
Lyra is standing in the opening, waiting for permission to enter. Look at her. She’s so beautiful waiting for me, eyes downcast as if she’s afraid of my anger. Why would she fear me? Doesn’t she know I’d do anything for her? Anything within my power.
“Come in, Lyra. You watched. It must have been hard on you.” I want to pull her into my arms and hug her tight, even though every surface of my body has been battered.
“I suspect the match was harder on you than it was on me,” she says as she braves a glance at me.
“Aye. Come in.” I motion to the table and we both sit. “What do you need, Lyra? How can I help?”
“I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything, Lyra.”
“Anything I ask?”
“Anything within my power.”
“I’m afraid to be alone. I’d like to sleep with you.”
She said that so fast I have to replay it silently in my head to make certain I heard correctly. My cock acts like I didn’t just fall face down in the sand less than half a day ago. He’s standing at attention, remembering the bliss of being clenched in her tight channel. I throw him a picture of the bloody sheet. Remember this, asshole? My cock doesn’t even have the decency to stand down.
“That’s not a good idea,” I say, even as part of me wants her to ask again.
The muscles in her face slacken. She didn’t like my answer.
“You said anything within your power,” she whispers sadly.
“That I did,” I nod.
“Please?”
“We can’t do . . . the other again. You understand?”
“Yes.”