Cold Mark (4 page)

All ten of the women had been Cold Marked while each man now wore a black slave's bracelet on their left wrist underneath their black spacesuit. None of us had any clue what the 'arrival ritual' would entail, but by the cruel gleam in the Mian's glowing eyes, it did not bode well. My body was trembling now, out of eyesight of the Mian soldiers at the end of the room, but I lifted my arms to Jax.

We were sparring partners. We always had been.

Jax and I were also two of the few who had received the ten marked tattoos on the undersides of our wrists for achieving our combat training. We never touched skin-to-skin, but after he placed his helmet on and moved into my embrace, holding me tight for takeoff, his boots sealed to the ground as the spacecraft began to lift, neither of us moved.

We merely held each other even tighter as the shouts of Human men were heard all around as their bodies were jerked back and forth, only their boots keeping them from crashing into each other. The wise men immediately sat, even as the Mian's laughter at the end of the room could be heard. Too bad not all of them were that quick to catch on.

The 'arrival ritual' was as Jax and I suspected. Only, it was for men, not women.

I stood inside a coliseum made of blue glass while Mian war cries battered my eardrums. The helmet did not help to drown out the horrific noise. The other women and I were on the front row with Mian guards at the end of our aisle. Marble bleachers were filled with Mian from the west and the east, apparently on a truce just to attend this unheard of event. Before us, in the center of the coliseum, was an area filled with the Human men still in their space travel wear—helmets included. The ground they walked on was pure brown dirt. They peered up at the spectators, unsure of when the attack would happen. The Mian litigators had explained—oh so briefly—that the men would be in the 'ring' for fifteen minutes. They would face off against Mian warriors from the east and the west, and they would be given blades to protect themselves. If they survived the fifteen minutes with the Mian warriors, they would prove themselves to be adequate slaves of the Mian.

The only way I even knew where Jax was compared to the rest of the Human men was the Mian number he had on the back of his spacesuit. His was 43. He was in the middle of the group, turning slowly in circles and watching the entrances of the ground level. The halo-glow above all of us clicked on, showing fifteen minutes on the countdown.

It started.

Mian warriors raced down the stairs of the bleachers and leapt over the circular railing with long, wicked swords in their hands. A drum began beating in a sickening rhythm that could only be for war. The lone way to distinguish these Mian should even be in the fight, compared to the rest of the war crying Mian, was the black attire that they also wore, though their black leather patched masks were much more frightening than the helmets of the Human men.

I gripped the edge of the barrier, only feet away from the first Human male who was skewered through by a charging Mian warrior. His cry of pain ... I did not think I would ever forget. His torso arched and his knees buckled from being stabbed in the back. His helmet turned in our direction right before his head hit the dirt, forever dead to us. The Mian's eyes were already on another target as he stepped on the Human's dead body to remove his sword, blood flying in an arc and splashing my gloves.

The woman on my right began to sob, her cries heard throughout it all.

I could not simply stand here.

My heart was beating too fast.

I would never forgive myself if I allowed Jax to be killed this way.

Knowing it was wrong, but not giving a damn, I shoved hard on the barrier railing and kicked my feet over. I heard one of the Mian guards shout a curse, seeing me leap over the side, but I did not stop. I rolled as I hit the dirt and grabbed the two blades from the dead Human male, never taking my eyes off my destination.

I might be small, and it did tend to work in my favor as surprise, but I was deadly in a fight. My body was made for this. I had a natural grace and each swing of my blades as I worked to the middle of the arena hit each mark, knowing where to slice just once to terminate these bastards. Humans were not here as sport, and we would not be killed off as such. I shouted in fury as a Mian stopped in his tracks, obviously seeing I was female with my skintight spacesuit. I launched one of my blades right at his throat and then raced straight for him. I had the blade back in my hand even before he hit the ground, gurgling on his own blood.

Jax saw me coming, and he fought his way to me. His own grace rivaled my own. This, right here, was one of the reasons why we had never dropped out of the government program. We were excellent at fighting beside each other, and we knew it. He motioned that there was an attacker behind me as I ran straight at him. Moving with ease, he bent with his hands lowered. More than used to this, I kept running and placed my right foot onto his hands and allowed him to throw me up and backward.

I heard the roar of the audience falter as I soared up and threw the air, arching my back and twisting. I landed directly on top of the advancing Mian's shoulders, my legs spread on either side of his head and sliced clean through his neck. I ignored how the roar of the crowd erupted into shouts of wrath as blood spewed from the Mian's throat. Instead, focusing on how he fell forward.

Jax caught my arm, steadied me, and grabbed the downed Mian's sword.

With much annoyance, he tossed away one of the useless blades he had been 'gifted'.

We fought together as one, even as more Mian warriors blazed down from the bleachers. They wanted to eradicate the Humans in their midst. Those fifteen minutes were the longest of my life. I had never fought so hard against a foe who was superior on all levels of strength and speed. It took everything Jax and I had to remain standing and alive. But the halo-clock counted down its final tick, an alarm shrieking through the air signaling the fight was done.

I still did not lower my weapons. Neither did Jax.

Until they were taken from us when we were led away through the gore of the dead.

Sitting on the floor inside a room of the coliseum with the surviving forty-one Human men, I braced my elbows on my knees and tried to regulate my breathing. My body was completely spent. I was exhausted beyond belief. My muscles twitched and burned from overuse. But I knew my oxygen was getting low. There was only a half-hour left until the oxygen would run out. The Mian needed to get these helmets the hell off us, but instead, they had kept us waiting for ten grueling minutes of silence. During training on Joyal, none of us had ever followed through with a malicious blow, much less
killed
someone before. Our thoughts were lost in the chaos of survival here.

There was a noise outside the sterile gray room we sat in, and all heads lifted in that direction.

It sounded like deep masculine timbers arguing past the thick metal door.

Another minute passed before a Mian man, the first litigator I had encountered after my name had been called on Joyal, opened the door. He surveyed us silently, half standing inside the room. His eyes narrowed as they traveled over us before he barked, "The female. The one who disobeyed orders. Get out here now."

My shoulders tensed, but I quietly stood to my feet. I tried not to grimace as I traipsed dirt and dried blood across the tiling from my boots. I glanced once at Jax when he started to stand, and I silently shook my head. I would face whatever punishment was given. He was still alive and I was grateful.

"Sit down," the Mian delegate growled, staring beyond me at Jax. He paused a moment and then grabbed my elbow, still watching over my head. "She won't be harmed, so cease your aggression."

I was not sure if I completely trusted his word as he slammed and locked the metal door behind us. He continued with his unrelenting, bruising hold, jerking me down the long hallway. Just when I was really beginning to worry as he marched us down twisting and gradually darkening hallways, he stopped before a frosted glass door, opened it, and shoved me inside. I stared at the door when he slammed it right in my face, not entering with me.

"Hey," I shouted. I lifted a hand and tried opening the door, but it would not budge. "What are—"

A throat cleared behind me.

I froze.

Then, ever so carefully, I turned. I did not move from that position.

I could not.

No, I just stared.

The charcoal gray room was small. It was only lit by two lamps on the left and the right walls. A marble round table sat in the middle with four black chairs around it. There was also a black couch against the far wall, facing the entrance to the room.

Four Mian were inside the room with me.

I had never seen four men who were quite so frightening.

They were actually gorgeous, but their eyes ...

There was a cold remoteness about their glowing gazes that kept me rooted where I stood.

These four men were something ...
other
.

Two were on the left side, with one sitting on the table with one of his legs lazily swinging while the other sat relaxed on his chair with his legs spread. The one on the table had the most beautiful golden hair I had ever seen, the color not natural for a Human. His gaze was a darker shade of his hair, a brutal gold. The man on the chair, his hair color was rich black, the same shade as my own, but where my eyes did not glow and were chocolate brown, his were piercing silver. Both had a deep bronze complexion and wore the tattooed mark of the west near their left eye.

The other two were farther into the reaches of the room. In contrast to the other two Mian being night and day in coloring, these two both had brilliant white hair. One wore it long, almost down to his waist, while the other wore it in indescribable choppy lengths to his shoulders. The one leaning nonchalantly against the wall had black as midnight eyes and the one perched on the arm of the couch had crystal blue eyes. Both bore the tattooed mark of the east near their right eye.

It was odd, but I could tell these two groups of men were Vaq pairs. They seemed naturally at ease with the proximity of each other's closeness. I only wished they did not radiate so much menace, and I now wished I had used the restroom before changing into my space attire.

The one with the long white hair asked in a deep, resonating voice, "Do you know who we are, Human?"

"No," I stated respectfully, making sure I spoke the correct words of their language. "I do not."

The one with the golden hair brushed a stray strand aside, stating in a bored tone, "We are the Pluma of the east and the west." They were the leaders of the Mian. He pointed vaguely to himself. "I'm Pluma Leo Kreob." He gestured to the black haired man next to him. "This is Pluma Malik Wazra." He flicked his wrist in an annoyed gesture to the long white haired man, and then the choppy white haired man. "That is Pluma Phila Moir and Pluma Killeg Creo."

I blinked ... and tried not to piss my spacesuit. "It's lovely to meet the four of you."

Pluma Kreob's lips twitched, but he continued casually, "Why did you disobey?"

I could lie. I could say the orders had not been clear. Though I did not think it was what would keep me alive with these four men. "I am more than trained for combat." I inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I also didn't want my friend to die."

"Ah, yes," Pluma Creo spoke from the couch. He flipped through a halo-pad, then stated, "Number 43. Jax Waterston." He punched the halo-pad off, not missing how I had tensed. "Yes, we do know a little about the male slaves who fought. But you," he leaned forward, "we know nothing of since you are female."

I stayed quiet. He had not asked a question, so I was not going to babble.

Pluma Wazra chuckled softly, the sound rolling through the air. "How many marks do you wear on your wrists?"

I swallowed but told the truth. "All ten."

The four men seemed to find this interesting, each eyeing me a little closer.

The same Pluma spoke. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

Their shock was palpable, even though the four men's expressions did not change.