Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Lydia
Ihave absolutely no fucking clue what I’m doing.
But as Killan straightens, I force what I hope is a reassuring smile onto my face, feigning calm.
If my shaking hands are betraying my true feelings, I can only hope he hasn’t noticed.
Killan doesn’t need me falling apart. He needs a strong partner to help him save our family.
“What can you tell me about Atakis’s ship?” I ask. “How big is his crew? He was the only one I saw.”
“There are four, including Atakis himself.”
“And they’ve got guns?” I guess. It’s the only explanation for how four people could’ve overpowered Roan and Sorin.
Sure, Atakis has the head of a crocodile, but the Ril’os brothers are built like tanks, with the broad shoulders and thick muscles of men who work physical labor for a living.
Plus, their scales and their sheer determination to keep Harlee and Briar safe—guns are the only way Atakis’s crew could’ve abducted my friends.
“The ship itself would not have weapons,” Killan answers. “It is a Freighter, not a Fighter. And they would not have handheld projectile guns on board, for fear of the ammunition puncturing the engines or fuel tanks. But I imagine they could have stun guns, yes.”
“Okay.” That’s not the worst news. “They can shoot us, but they can’t kill us.”
“They do not need guns to kill.”
“True. Do we have guns?”
Killan gives me a stony look, which I interpret as a no. Makes sense. He’s an algae farmer, not a hunter or a soldier. Normally I’d be pleased. I’ve never seen a gun in real life, let alone held one. But considering the circumstances…damn.
“I’ve never planned a reverse kidnapping before, but it surely can’t be any different from planning anything else.” A bakery, for example. “Step one is to lure the crew outside. Any ideas how?”
“The Freighter will have scanners. The moment we step outside, they will know. Although…” He tips his head slightly to one side, thinking. “There is a chance the Freighter’s scanners were not designed for such a windy planet. Mayhaps they will be coated in dust, and dust can cause faulty readings.”
“So there’s a chance we can sneak up on them.”
“Yes.” His agreement is a growl, still grumpy I’m not hiding in the caves.
Well, it’s easy for me to ignore his temper. I’ve had a lot of practice. Instead, I scour my memory. I only saw the Freighter for a few minutes several days ago, and I’d been more focused on watching Killan and Atakis.
I can vaguely remember its wings being shaped like semicircles. The entrance had been at the back, accessed by a retractable ramp from the ground into the ship’s storage bay.
Smith’s ship had been similar in design—with the entrance at the back. Inside, there’d been a central corridor leading to the front of the ship and the cockpit, like an Earth plane.
Unlike a plane, there hadn’t been rows of seats on either side of the corridor.
Rather, there were rooms, accessed via sliding doors.
Some of those doors had opened automatically whenever they sensed movement.
But others had remained locked to everyone but Smith, controlled by some sort of advanced biological technology that he’d bragged about being impossible to break.
I can’t assume all spaceships are the same, but considering I’ve only ever seen two (and only seen inside one of those two) that’s all the information I’ve got to work with. It will have to be enough.
There isn’t an alternative.
Killan and I can’t fail.
“What if we sabotaged the ship’s landing gear?
” I ask, once again thinking of a spaceship like an Earth plane.
I don’t know a lot about planes, but I’ve got the impression that they can’t take off without landing gear.
We could slash a few tires—or whatever spaceships use in place of tires.
“That would get the crews’ attention, and they’d have to come outside to investigate the damage. ”
“We would risk destroying the entire ship. Without working brakes, it would have no defense against the wind.”
“The wind’s strong enough to crash a stationary spaceship?
” No wonder it wreaks havoc with my asthma.
What are Human lungs compared to spaceships?
“We’re already risking Atakis taking off.
He could leave any second. What if he suddenly decides four captives is enough and fucks off?
” I don’t linger on the possibility that Roan and Sorin could be dead.
It doesn’t bear thinking about. “If that happens…” I swallow but make myself speak the truth.
“If that happens, we’ll never see them again. ”
Grabbing a chair, I straighten it so I can sit down. One of the legs must be broken, though, because it tips alarmingly to one side, threatening to slip me onto the floor. I let it, my ass hitting the flagstones with a soft thump.
Absurdly, I’m still damp between my thighs from when Killan had me spreadeagled over the drying table. The contrast of that memory with what’s happening is chalk and cheese.
I take hold of Killan’s ankle, which is the easiest part of him I can reach.
The moment I was first abducted from Earth, I should’ve realized another abduction could be equally possible. “I still don’t understand the obsession with Humans. I get that Smith wanted three Humans on his show for the shock factor, but what does Atakis want with us?”
“I can speak only for myself, and my obsession is for one particular Human female, not all of your species.” Killan crouches, and I have to release his ankle to make room for his knees.
He brushes a strand of hair away from my cheek, his fingers so gentle I might have missed feeling his touch had my eyes been closed.
“When he saw Briar and Harlee, he said something—” Killan frowns in concentration.
“Something about seeing Humans on a broadcast.”
“LOVE GALAXY.”
But Killan shakes his head. “I do not think so. It did not strike me that way.”
“That can’t be right. It was mentioned multiple times in different articles and interviews that LOVE GALAXY would be the first show Humans would appear on. Remember, they were telling everyone to get the English download for their translators?”
“You are sure?” Another frown.
“Yeah. Eight days of listening to that robotic computer voice reading search results is kind of hard to forget.” I straighten. “Why?”
“I will be back.” Standing, Killan disappears down the passageway that leads to Roan’s cottage. He’s only gone a minute—two tops. But it gives me the creeps, thinking about how Atakis might return at any second. Without Killan, I’ll be virtually defenseless against the crocodile man.
Standing on legs that wish they didn’t have to deal with this drama after hours spent hiking through caves, I rummage among the contents of Killan’s kitchen cupboards scattered over the floor, searching for something I can use as a weapon.
A heavy rolling pin would be perfect, but of course there aren’t any baking implements-cum-clubbing-batons.
Even his knives aren’t that impressive, since the robotic arm (RIP) did most of the food prep for him.
Killan returns as I’m debating between two different pieces of broken crockery, trying to work out which one has a sharper cutting edge.
“What’d you think?” I ask, putting the selected crockery pieces on the seat of my abandoned chair rather than holding them up for Killan to inspect.
My hands are shaking so much now that he can’t possibly fail to notice, so I clench them into fists and stuff them under my arms. Out of sight is out of mind. I hope.
Killan doesn’t look up. He’s holding Roan’s tablet, the cracked screen angled in such a way that the overhead light reflects off it when I try to see what’s captured his attention.
“Your call is important to us. Please hold, for the first available—"
“Fek off,” he swears, switching the volume to mute.
“What?” I tug his arm down, squinting at the screen. It’s a little difficult to make out what I’m looking at, but it’s not the Guild’s contact info. Rather, it appears to be a recording of some sort, showing…a room? No, it’s a stadium.
Killan releases the tablet into my keeping, and I bow my head for a closer examination. The picture quality isn’t great, and there are thin black lines running down the center, as if the file hasn’t downloaded properly.
“This was on InGal?”
“From, akh, the—” He says a word which my translator seems to think about for a second before supplying “dark web” as the English.
I take a closer look. The stadium surrounds a sandy oval, and while it’s packed full of spectators, there are only three people on the oval itself. One is blue with horns. One is…a humanoid cat with a tail. And the third is a Human.
“Who’s she?” My insides give a painful lurch as I point at the woman.
“I have heard of the Arena,” Killan says, but it isn’t an answer. “I did not think I would ever see it. Never wanted to see it.”
“Who is she?” I repeat, my heart thumping madly in my chest.
“A gladiator slave. They all are.” He points to the three of them, crowded together. The woman is turning in a circle, as if searching for someone specific in the stadium. Then she says something to her companions. I see her mouth move, but there isn’t any sound with the video.
It takes a second for my brain to realize what Killan said. “Gladiator slaves? As in someone’s forcing them to fight?”
The woman has got to be about my age. She’s wearing jeans and a sweater. I can even see the patches sewn onto her sweater—one’s for a band. One’s the Aboriginal flag, and another one’s for women’s reproductive rights.
She isn’t just Human like me. She’s Australian like me.
She doesn’t look scared. She looks horrified.
I don’t need the sound to guess the spectators are all calling for her death. They’re even throwing something at her…coins, I think. Trying to anger her. Trying to force her two companions to fight.
Set into the arena walls are huge screens displaying rows and columns. One column lists words (which I can’t read), and the column next to it lists…numbers, perhaps? Like betting odds. Which means all those sick creeps in the audience are betting on who’s going to win.
And who’s going to die.
A quick glance between the three people in the arena tells me the Human is at a significant disadvantage. She’s at least a foot shorter than the smallest of her opponents. And the blue guy—he might be bigger even than Killan, with massive ram-like horns that curl around the sides of his head.
“This is where Atakis is planning on taking us,” I say, but my voice doesn’t sound normal. It’s softer than usual. Quieter.
That could be us—Killan and me. Harlee and Roan. Briar and Sorin. We could be next.
For a second or two, nothing changes. Then, fast as lightning, the cat-like alien lunges.
Even on the poor-quality recording, I see the flash of his sharp claws, long enough and strong enough to be knives.
He launches himself at the much-larger male, sinking his teeth into the blue throat.
Blood splatters across the woman’s face, and she screams.
She mightn’t be the one physically hurt (not yet at least) but I know I’m watching her heart break. The anguish on her face is unmistakable, and she throws herself into the fray.
The screen cuts to black.
“Is that…” I can hardly find my voice. “Is that livestreaming?”
“No. It is dated several Common months ago.”
“So is she—” I clamp my mouth shut before I can ask if she’s dead.
Of course she is, and hearing Killan’s confirmation isn’t going to make me feel any better.
Instead, I say, “So Atakis saw that video and then he saw Harlee and Briar and realized he could make some money selling Humans as gladiator slaves.”
“I think so.”
I drop the tablet, desperate to get as far away as possible from what I witnessed. For a second, I forget that the kitchen’s been trashed, though, and the table isn’t in its usual spot, so the tablet hits the flagstone floor with a crash, and another crack splits the already damaged screen.
“I don’t care if we have to blow up half the Freighter, we’re getting Harlee and Briar off that ship,” I announce, and I’m proud to hear my voice is almost back to normal.
“And Chloe,” Killan adds.
“Ah, fuck. Chloe!” I forgot about her, and I run my hands through my tangled hair.
“Even Chloe doesn’t deserve to become a gladiator slave.
” Nobody does. “Please tell me you’ve got some dynamite somewhere on this planet?
Or a bomb? A grenade? A Molotov cocktail?
” I’m prepared to be extremely flexible about exactly how we create our distraction.