Chapter 5
Mace’s tone rose her hackles. Shaking off his hand, Nia lifted her chin and strode forward. The bulkheads of the narrow corridor closed in on her. Panic renewing, she stepped backward and—smacked into Mace. The door swished closed behind them.
Her heart rate accelerated. Terminals and panels ran the length ahead of her. A low hum echoed emanated from behind the bulkheads, accompanied by an occasional click. How many people watched this process? Were weapons pointed at her?
The blond man turned with a long metal rod in his hand. She stiffened, ready to bolt, when Mace’s hand settled on her shoulder, holding her still.
“It will render your ocular implant inoperative,” the man said, his tone crisp. “You don’t need it. You no longer have a PALM or connection to the CORE.”
The words turned her stomach, but she held still, given strength by the Tellusian behind her even as his touch unsettled. The blond man pressed the metal rod to her temple. She felt nothing, but the rod made a shrill tone before he pulled it away.
Tucking the rod into his satchel, he swapped it for a knife. Alarmed, she pressed fully against Mace to get away, but the man gripped her bound hands and sliced through the polymer. She flexed her wrists.
A section of the bulkhead lit up where he touched it. “Biometric scans. Place your hands and eyes here.”
With Mace’s threat fresh in her mind, she obeyed. The scanner hummed, then something pricked her hand. “Ow.” She rubbed the skin, seeing a red mark, and scowled at the blond man.
“Blood test for an identity match.”
Her stomach sank, her skin growing cold. They’ll find out who I am. They would ransom her. Only last week, she’d seen two ransom victims returned to the CORE on a media broadcast, swapped for two POWs who had been in CORE prison for years. The two CORE citizens, ruling-class members of the Muller family, had been beaten severely, to the point of near death.
Being ransomed would only mean pain.
Would it be better than what’s about to happen?
With fear lodged in her throat, she followed the blond man as he led the way down the corridor. A portion of panel slid open. He reached inside. “Your new vambrace, Commander.”
Mace extended his left arm. The curved piece of tech enveloped his forearm. It hissed itself closed, then beeped, tightening to form a solid piece of metal from his wrist to elbow. The controls on the length of it brightened in gold.
“This way,” said the blond man, walking further along the corridor. “We have a few more things to take care of.”
He led the way farther along and placed his hand on another panel, activating it. “What is your name, age, and last rank and position held?” he asked her, his tone impassive.
She licked her lips but didn’t speak. Why should she tell them this? Everything could be used against her. They already had her blood.
“If you’re uncooperative, we’ll assign you a random designation and place you in the manual labor pool.” He stated the facts with an unblinking gaze.
“Nia.” Her nickname was safe, unknown to the public. “I’m twenty-seven.”
The man nodded, entering the information into the panel. “And your last held position?”
She pressed her lips together.
“It’ll help us place you for employment,” he said, but didn’t sound like he really cared one way or the other.
“She was in triage on Elara Five,” Mace answered.
She tipped her face to glare at him. His eyebrows lifted.
The man turned away from her, tapping the panel. “It would be better for you if we knew the specifics of your post, but we’ll put your rank as the lowest held in triage for the moment—”
“Surgeon Lieutenant Colonel.” She winced. Her pride made her answer. Why should she care if they recorded her as a medical assistant? She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temple.
With raised eyebrows, the blond man entered the information. Another section of panel popped open. He withdrew two bundles of metal. The malleable ovals looked like jewelry, but she knew they couldn’t be.
“Our newest model of bonds,” the man said, stepping closer. “Organic metals.”
Prisoners’ bonds. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. She looked around frantically, needing an escape, knowing there wasn’t one, and jumped when they encircled her wrists.
The sensation of the warm metal against her skin made her stare. The man pulled a computer palette, slightly larger than his hand, out of his satchel and tapped it. The bonds shrank, tightening against her flesh, then activated with a beep. She rotated her wrists, watching the metal bend and move. Each had a green light on the side, and a small screen graced her right wrist showing the time: 17:09. Did they use Earth’s twenty-four-hour clock like the CORE did?
“Make sure they’re synced,” the man said.
Mace touched his vambrace.
Her wrists flew together, locking on a click, the metal now solid and immovable instead of flexible, the lights red. She tried to pull them apart, rip the blasted things off, but they wouldn’t budge. Another touch of Mace’s vambrace and her wrists separated.
Her face burned while the man quickly went over some of the features, the comm, that she’d be tracked at all times, and how she would need to remain within her designated boundary markers.
“Almost done,” Mace said from behind her.
And then what? Seconds passed as she stared at the metal encircling her wrists, her new reality sinking in. I’m a slave. She lifted her chin to glare at Mace. If she thought she saw regret cross his features, she knew she imagined it. There was no way he regretted doing this to her.
The blond man’s palette beeped. He scanned it, his eyes widening a second later. With a snap of his head, he looked straight at her, lips parted. Then a strange glint entered his gaze—the most emotion she’d seen on him since they’d arrived.
Her heart thumped in her chest. Her blood tests. He knows. The remainder of her time with these people would be spent in pain. The Mullers had told the media reporters they’d been tortured for weeks, healed only to start the process over again. No one returned to the CORE unharmed.
She shook her head, trying to deny her lineage before he spoke a word. The tension between them grew.
“I’ll need to inform Commodore Cache at once,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
Mace’s hand snaked out, gripping the man’s wrist to take the palette from his fingers, then froze when he read the information.
Words spewed from his mouth, undecipherable and clipped. The blond man startled, uneasy, then replied in the same language.
A conversation went back and forth, Mace becoming increasingly threatening, the man alarmed, but stubborn in his responses.
Fear and pressure built in her head, and she had the urge to cover her ears and scream. Then something Mace said made the color drain from the other man”s face. He glanced at her, then at Mace, locking eyes. The Tellusian who had taken her from her home looked murderous, ready to kill for her.
Why would this warrior step between her and being ransomed?
Finally, Mace’s tone softened a fraction. He accessed the controls of his vambrace with a clenched jaw.
The man stared at his palette and nodded once before looking at Nia. “You are now processed,” he said in Common. “Your warder has a duty to make sure you’re safe at all times. Do you understand?”
Her stomach still climbing her throat at what just happened, she shook her head. “Warder?”
“Commander Mace will be your warder. You are the ward, protected by Captive Mandate 216 and the old laws.” His gaze flicked to Mace.
Her mind raced. Protected? She’d thought she would be turned into a sex slave, or something like it, but they’d asked about her medical expertise. She scrubbed a hand over her face and encountered her bonds. Her fingers rolled into fists.
She didn’t care about a Captive Mandate; she wanted to go home.
Another panel on the left bulkhead popped open. The man reached inside, this time pulling out her necklace. “It came out clean.”
Relief made her knees weak. She reached to snatch it, but he insisted on passing it to Mace. Not even my belongings are my own.
But it didn’t matter, not any longer. Not when Mace held the chain on either end to clasp it around her throat. All she needed was a moment alone to turn it on.
Averting her gaze from Mace’s icy blue one, she turned, presenting her nape and lifting her hair. A moment later, the cool of the chain brushed her neck.
As soon as he’d secured the clasp, Nia stepped away and pressed the locket to her heart. One step closer to home.
“We’re finished here” the man said. “Good day.” He hurried off behind them.
Instead of following, Mace indicated for her to continue along the corridor. They stopped at a rectangular door. He scanned his hand on the panel and the door slid open, revealing a small room, brightly lit.
Her breaths shortened. What would come next? The white bulkheads gave her no comfort.
“I have to follow the rules.” Mace’s voice rumbled loud in the tiny space. “You’ll need to remain bound in the general population.”
Stomach fluttering with nervous tension, she swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. Click. Her wrists snapped together. She glared at him, her chest burning.
Another scanner was positioned on the opposite bulkhead beside a white door. This one opened into a corridor with metal grating on the deck and gray bulkheads. The murmur of people pulsed from nearby.
Fingers gripping her elbow, Mace guided her out. The vacant corridor led to a densely packed one. She tensed and Mace pulled her closer, heading toward noise.
So many people.They merged with the crowd. Garish fashions intermixed with uniforms of navy blue, brown, and white. Banners hung from the bulkheads in intervals, each with a swirling symbol at its center, reminiscent of water. She’d briefly seen something similar graffitied on Jupiter One once—before the bots had scrubbed the mess.
She tried not to touch anyone, but it drove her closer to her warder. Blue tattoos everywhere. The face tattoos made her stomach roll. Here’s a pretty.
She buried the memory and looked up. Light shifted between lattice-work metal as people walked in the corridor above them. A rush of water gurgled from somewhere, like a stream, but she couldn’t see one. Vines climbed the bulkheads, mixing with bushy shrubs in round pots. People sat on benches tucked into alcoves.
Corridors are for walking, not mingling.
A man stumbled toward her, and Nia shrank away—right against her captor’s naked chest. She yelped, jerking sideways. Her bonds were tugged in the opposite direction. Mace steered her behind him, his body partially shielding hers. The people in the corridor parted like he was a scavenging plow.
The scent of hot food wafted toward them. Her stomach clenched painfully. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Twenty hours? More?
They turned another corner and the crowd thinned. She caught her breath. Welcoming beams of light flooded an open space ahead. She veered right, walking straight toward it. Mace didn’t stop her.
Placing her bound wrists on a railing, she leaned forward. They stood on the second level of a tall atrium, fixtures dispersing dazzling rays from the overhead five decks above. At ground level, tables of varying sizes spread throughout the center. Vendors skirted the outer edge.
Her side warmed as Mace stood beside her. She wanted to shift away from his heat but kept herself still, then jumped when a red parrot flew in front of her face.
“Birds?” When was the last time she’d seen a real bird? Maybe on Jupiter One. Her heart thumped with wonder as she watched it soar.
“They escape the arboretum from time to time.” He shifted his weight, the movement bringing him closer.
The parrot swooped, landing on the uppermost railing with others. Her feet twitched, wanting to head there for a closer look.
“We need to go,” Mace said, his tone kind.
She hated him for it.
Swallowing, she turned away from the sight. He gripped the section of bonds between her wrists and tugged her toward a lift.
Once inside, the doors shut and the lift descended deck after deck, giving her another sense as to Orion’s size. It stopped, the door opening, and she tugged her hands free to step out on her own. This corridor was smaller than the previous one, the bulkheads a lighter shade of gray. She raised her gaze to his in question. He gestured to the left, keeping his distance.
Holding her body stiff, she walked ahead of him. A man strode away from them at the far end of the otherwise empty corridor. A guffaw of laughter came through one of the closed doors, a woman yelling from another. Nia cocked her head when she heard a baby cry farther along.
Mace stopped at a door marked CSL92-264 and scanned his hand. The door slid open, and he waited for her to enter. Once through, he touched his vambrace. Her bonds separated, hands falling to her sides.
She scanned her surroundings. They were large quarters, bigger than hers on Elara Five. The countertop in the kitchenette gleamed. A table sat next to it, two chairs tucked in efficiently and a skinny sapling in a brown pot at its center. Mace walked to the refrigeration unit and opened it.
Her heart thumped with uncertainty. Why hadn’t she been dumped in a cell?
A wall terminal occupied the bulkhead on the other side. Inactive, the black surface reflected their distorted forms. A large bed was built into the construction of the rear bulkhead, only accessible from one side. Fluffy ivory blankets billowed upon it like clouds.
A pile of dark blue cloth on the end of the bed contrasted with the pale color. She walked closer. It was clothing, a warrior’s uniform.
She whirled around, heart pounding in her throat. “These are your quarters,” she choked.
He paused by the exit. “Yes. Make sure you eat something.” He nodded to the open refrigeration unit.
“Where am I to sleep?” She gritted the words between clenched teeth, looking for another room. There was one other slender door. It had to be the washroom, not separate sleeping quarters.
“The bed,” he said nodding to the monstrosity behind her. “Or the deck if you prefer.”
Her heart beat hard in her chest, threatening to break free. “I will never sleep with you.”
Her words came out in a strangled whisper, but she knew he heard her when he said, “The deck it is, then.”
She screamed and charged. When the door closed between them, she grabbed the closest thing.