Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nina

“ P lease don’t kick me off,” I say in a rush. “I need to speak with you.”

For a second that feels like a lifetime, the Guild Ambassador says nothing. I’m so convinced the Hov are going to activate my collar that sweat runs down my back and coats the palms of my hands. I’ve felt like this before, all clammy and flushed, when I caught the flu from one of my patients and was so lightheaded I fainted.

But then the Ambassador nods, and I release a trapped breath.

He continues to propel his hammock-chair toward the food table, and I catch Venn and Reke staring at me over the top of the crowd. Venn looks like he’s getting ready to strangle someone. Reke has his mouth open, like he’s surprised it never occurred to him to jump onto a parasite’s knee and take a lap around the hall.

“We’re just having a friendly chat!” I tell my Hov guard as we glide on by. I have to hope the Hov won’t want to make a scene during their fancy dinner and won’t electrocute me (or whatever it is the collars do) in front of their guests if they don’t have to.

Still, the guard looks to the Ambassador for confirmation.

“We are talking,” he confirms, his words clipped.

Reluctantly, the Hov turns his attention to confirming Venn and Reke aren’t planning to come after me.

“I know you know that this place isn’t legal,” I tell the Ambassador. “I saw you parading around the Arena, pretending not to see what was right in front of your eyes. And now you’re here, placing bets. Surely attending fancy functions to celebrate slave gladiators isn’t part of your job description.”

I think I’m trying to blackmail him, but considering I sat on his lap without a plan, it’s only now occurring to me that I’ve got no leverage with which to actually blackmail him. We both know I’m not in any position to contact his superiors at the Guild, even if I knew how to do that (which I don’t).

“The Hov abducted me from my home planet about a week ago,” I say, deciding my best course of action is to outline the facts. “Two weeks? Anyway, I’ve they’ve kept me locked in a cell underground this whole time. I’m not a fighter, and even if I were, what the Hov are doing is barbaric. Nobody should be enslaved and forced to fight for their lives … ”

I trail off, as it once again occurs to me that the Ambassador being at this evening soiree most likely means that he enjoys watching such fights and that he bets lots of money on the outcomes of those fights. He might be wearing the same cloak I originally saw him in when he was inspecting the Arena in his official capacity as Guild Ambassador, but tonight that cloak is missing the large symbolic clasp, which presumably has a similar function to a Human police officer’s uniform and badge.

Momentarily at a loss of how to continue, I readjust my sweaty hold on the rope supports, trying extremely hard not to slide even half an inch down the Ambassador’s legs for fear of being cut to shreds.

I won’t lie: his razor scales are an absolute bitch. Even though I took a lot of trouble when I first sat down to only brush his scales in the direction they’re lying, they still sliced through the tough fabric of my jeans, and pain like from a dozen paper cuts is stinging my legs.

He still hasn’t replied. Instead, he catches hold of the handlebar in front of the food table, and our hammock-chair comes to a halt. There isn’t a lot left on offer; most appetizers have already been picked through.

Up close and personal, I can see his razor scales aren’t uniform. The ones around his neck and across his chin are more like mini spikes than scales. Performing any sort of pharynx surgery on him would be virtually impossible even with the sharpest scalpel.

“I just want to escape,” I say desperately. “I want to get away from here.”

“You are the first of your species I have seen.” His voice has a lisping quality, but my translator has no trouble understanding.

“Yeah, well, we Humans haven’t invented intergalactic space travel yet. ”

“You claim you are not a fighter.”

“I’m not. Well … ” I think about the last week and all the hell I’ve been through. Maybe I’m not all that physically strong when compared to every other alien in the room, but I’ve survived all the crap that’s happened to me so far. “Yes,” I amend, “I am. But not a fighter like the kind who’s going to survive the Arena.”

I scrub at my face with my free hand, remembering Venn’s warning about how showing emotion is a weakness.

“Your two Mates are eager for you to return.” The Ambassador’s long tongue is licking the air. I can’t quite tell if it’s a sign of agitation or if he’s smelling me.

“They’re not… ” I was going to say they’re not my Mates, but why the hell shouldn’t they be? Aliens exist. Intergalactic gladiators exist. The three of us might all be dead tomorrow. Maybe I should throw my last ounce of caution to the wind and call a potato and potato. “Yes, they’re my Mates.” I even like the way it sounds out loud, and I’m not accosted by any sudden urge to change my mind.

“You smell like them.”

“Yep.” I probably smell like sex and sweat, and considering I haven’t had a proper wash in at least a week, I probably smell like a lot of other things too. “The three of us want to escape together. I mean, I want to escape, and I’m taking them with me.”

I feel like a hypocrite, asking for his help when I saw Reke kill the Parakian gladiator. If I knew the gladiator’s name, maybe I’d tell the Ambassador about what happened to him, to hopefully bring a little peace to his family, but I don’t. I’m desperate enough not to want to ruin my last chance by alienating the one person who might help me.

“Please,” I say instead.

He blinks. He doesn’t have eyelashes, but he does appear to have two sets of eyelids. One closes horizontally; the other, vertically.

“I cannot help you,” he says, his voice low.

I wish I could say his answer surprises me. But when I hear his words, I just feel the weight of inevitability sink on to my shoulders. It’s so heavy that for a moment I’m paralyzed.

“Nevertheless, I can tell you that five Females matching your description have been sighted on an uninhabited planet in deep space. Their ship crashed, but they survived.”

“What?” It takes a moment for my brain to process what I’m hearing.

“They’re alive? They survived?” My hands shake, and I slip down his thighs, hissing in pain as the Ambassador’s scales shred more of my jeans and cut the back of my legs.

“That is what I have been told.” With a kick of his booted foot, he propels our hammock chair lazily forward, and we drift between the chatting groups.

“Do the Hov know?” I ask in a whisper.

He nods. “Their attempt to recapture the women has not gone according to plan. I doubt they will try again.”

“Okay.” I have to think about what he’s saying. Of everything that I thought might happen tonight, finding out the other abducted women are alive and (hopefully) safe wasn’t one of them. “So you’re not going to help. Will you?—”

The hammock comes to an abrupt stop as one of the career gladiators catches hold of the rope. His claws are shorter than Reke’s, but he’d still be able to gut me with them.

“You desire to speak with me?” The Ambassador flicks his tongue rapidly in and out of his mouth, and this time I’m sure he’s annoyed. He fidgets, and I hurriedly jump off his knee, not wanting to sustain any more cuts.

I feel down the back of my jeans, and tears and holes meet my fingers, where the fabric has frayed. If I were Gen Z, I’d probably think these jeans are the height of fashion.

“What did you do that for?” I demand, pointing a finger at the gladiator’s chest.

The two career gladiators tower over me. Maybe if this was the first time I was meeting a seven-foot alien, I’d have backed away.

“You might have made a deal with the Hov,” I tell them, ignoring the shake in my voice, “but you absolutely don’t have my consent. You should withdraw your challenge to fight Reke and Venn. Otherwise, those two are going to kill you.”

Perfectly synchronized, they step toward me.

I back up.

The Ambassador clearly decides he’s not interested in me enough to care and glides away, the motherfucker. And then the twins are stepping toward me again, and too late I realize they’re herding me into a corner behind one of the painted statues.

I look around, but for the first time since my abduction I cannot catch the attention of a single parasite. As if by some unmentioned signal, they’ve all pushed their hammock-chairs to the buffet table as the main meal has just been served.

“Back up,” I tell them using my stern nurse voice, and I raise a hand to create some distance between them and me, as I’d been taught at my karate class.

“Why wait?” one asks.

“Why indeed?” the other replies.

My stomach drops to my feet, and I fumble in my sleeve, trying to disentangle Reke’s broken claw from the threads I’ve used to tie it in place. My hands are shaking so much I can’t get it free, and the twins are stepping closer.

“Nope! Don’t you fucking dare,” and I kick at one guy’s exposed dick.

My foot contacts with nothing. Stumbling, my bare feet find no purchase on the stupidly-smooth floor, and so I grab hold of the statue. I must blank out for a second because I swear the two career gladiators become extremely blurry, like my eyes are playing tricks on me. And then, where the two were standing, there’s only one.

An absolutely HUGE one!

My mouth drops open. They … They just melted their bodies together to form a nine-foot-tall alien with tusks the size of my forearms. They’ve got this jagged scar running down the center of their body, from the top of their head to between their legs, like someone has stitched them together using Frankenstein’s patented method.

So this is why Venn’s been worried all day.

This is why the twins aren’t afraid of Reke.

This is why the Hov organized this fancy feast.

And this is why all the wealthiest parasites are so eagerly placing bets .

It’s Reke and Vennkor vs. Space Hulk.

And I’m the prize.

If they don’t just kill me right now.

I swallow. I think I’m going into shock. The tips of my fingers are tingling, and I can’t remember the last time I breathed. I should be counting, but I can’t seem able to remember what number comes next.

They take another step toward me, and my back hits the icy-cold wall. I’ve got nowhere to run, and unwanted memories surface. I’m staring at the monster before me, but I’m also trapped in the perpetually long moment right before my parents’ car hit the tree.

“Don’t,” I tell them, my voice barely louder than a whisper. And then I scream for all I’m worth.

Vennkor

Nina’s scream pierces the air. Reke and I dive off the platform. Blinding pain eviscerates through me, and I clutch at my stomach, doubling over.

Reke grunts, a muscle jumping in his jaw. His legs look like they are about to give way under him, but he does not stop moving toward where Nina’s scream came from.

Fighting all my instincts with the strength of my fear, I throw myself at the Hov guard controlling our collars. I want to be helping Nina, but the best I can do is distract the guard long enough that Reke can save her.

Please let Nina be well.

Please let her be safe .

Vision blurring, my hands find the Hov’s thick neck, and I squeeze. The pain does not relent, for all the Hov scrabbles at my hands, desperately trying to free himself. I ignore his feeble efforts, determined to hold on for as long as I am conscious. If I am lucky, I will kill him before I die.

From behind me comes more shouts. Someone screams, not Nina this time. Then there is a shattering crash; a statue has toppled over.

Finally, my knees lose the last of their strength. I sink to the floor. More Hov guards are grabbing at my arms. They seem virtually immune to the pain. Perhaps the collar cannot transmit through the air in their skin. Whatever the reason, these few guards are at least too focused on me to stop Reke.

Nina. Her name is my last thought as the all-consuming pain overpowers my body, and darkness descends as absolute as a starless sky.

Nina

The career gladiator blinks. Did it not occur to them I’d make the absolute biggest fuss I possibly can and draw everyone’s attention to their attack? Apparently not. They might be huge, but they’re not hugely intelligent. And then Reke is leaping onto their back, his sharp teeth ripping into the side of their throat.

Roaring, they throw Reke off them, using their sheer strength against his smaller, more lithe body. He twists in the air and lands on his feet, crouched low to the ground. Dark blood is dripping down his chin, and he licks his bottom lip clean.

The parasites, in their hammock-chairs, surge forward, all trying to see what’s happening. Someone clips the statue behind which I’ve been cornered, and it falls over, shattering across the floor.

Reke lunges again, all his claws extended, but he’s moving slower than usual, and the career gladiator hits him out of the air. He slams into the ground and slides through the statue pieces like he’s a bowling ball crashing through pins.

He doesn’t immediately righten himself, and when the career gladiator stalks toward him, their golden eyes flashing, I stumble between them, trying to shield Reke with my body.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” I scream, angrier than I’ve ever been. My voice cracks. My throat is raw.

Several Hov guards release the gun-like weapons from their belts and make a beeline for the career gladiator, creating a semicircle around them, putting themselves between the career gladiator and the parasitic crowd. The blades that extend beyond the barrel of their guns buzz with electricity, and when they touch one to the monster’s side, they throw their head back and howl their pain.

I kneel beside Reke, but when I reach for him, pain shoots up my arm.

“Stop it!” Tears stream unheeded down my face. I’m on the verge of panicking. “Please,” I beg the Hov. “Stop his collar! He won’t hurt anyone. You’ll kill him!”

Reke shudders and then stills. When I try touching him this time, I don’t feel any pain .

“Reke, you’re going to be okay.” I search his body for wounds, but I can’t see any physical injuries. His eyes are open, and his chest is rising and falling with his rapid breaths. “You’re already healing,” I tell him, brushing a stray strand of jet-black hair away from his forehead.

I search the room for Venn. My other Mate is lying on the ground before the dais. His eyes are closed, and when I grab his shoulder, he doesn’t respond. He’s passed out. Or dead.

Fuck! I search for a pulse, but of course I don’t know where I’m supposed to be searching. The next best thing is to check he’s still breathing, and I press my ear to his lips, waiting to feel the rush of air as he exhales.

Nothing happens.

Not waiting any longer, I tip his head back, open his mouth and check his throat and nose for blockages. Seeing nothing, I press my hands to his chest, interlocking my fingers, and begin chest compressions. It’s nothing like the practice dummy I trained on. Venn is much larger than the average adult Human, and even using my full weight I’ve got no idea if it’s working. But I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Even though my arms ache, and I can barely breathe because I’m panting so hard.

“You’re stayin' alive, stayin' alive, ah, ha, ha, ha, yeah,” I pant sing, keeping rhythm and praying Venn’s heart is located roughly in the same place as a Human’s. “Stayin’ alive. Stayin’ alive. Because if you die, and leave me here, I’ll absolutely kill you!” I practically growl that last part. It doesn’t rhyme at all, but it seems to help because Venn gasps, pulling air into his lungs.

His chest inflates.