Enslaved (Brides of the Kindred Book 14) (6 page)

Trin
thought about it now—thought long and hard. Maybe she
should
just let him go. He was angry and dangerous and huge and
muscular and
male.
He didn’t belong
aboard
The Alacrity
. It was like
trying to keep an exotic pet in an environment that wasn’t good for it.

No, I should stop thinking of him as a
pet. That’s one reason he got so mad in the first place.
She
sighed. Maybe it
would
be best to
just let him go. There were four life pods attached to the ship and they only
really needed three of them to evacuate everyone. She could simply give him one
and let him go where he wanted.

The
life pods had been designed to survive long stretches of time in deep space and
they all had stocks of dehydrated food spheres—provided he had a rudimentary
knowledge of flying and knew how to navigate wormholes, he could go pretty much
anywhere he wanted.

That’s what I ought to do,
she
thought.
Just let him go his own way.
He’s never going to play the roll I need him to—Sidna is right, he’s a
dangerous liability. All right…when I get back from the Devil’s Eye, I’ll do
it.

Her
heart was heavy as she made the decision and not because losing the Havoc meant
she’d basically flushed fifty thousand credits down the drain. Somehow, the
idea of loosing Thrace
was like a weight on her heart. It didn’t make any sense but somehow she’d
allowed herself to grow fond of the big Havoc. So fond that the idea of never
seeing him again made her eyes sting and her throat grow tight.

Don’t be an idiot,
she
lectured herself, swiping angrily at her damp eyes.
He’s just a failed experiment. An idea that didn’t pan out. Next time
maybe you’ll think harder before you sink credits into a scheme.

She
straightened up and took a deep breath. It was time to stop dwelling on the
problems with her troublesome Havoc and start concentrating on her strategy for
getting in and out of the Demon’s Eye in one piece tomorrow. And after she got
in and out with the
Jaxite,
how she
was going to sell it without a male body-slave to help her. Well, maybe she
could try to hire one for a few days from somewhere although she was afraid the
Yonnite mistresses would spot a fake…

I’ll figure it out,
Trin
told herself.
I have to. For now, one
step at the time. First I have to get the Jaxite to sell.

The Alacrity
was in
the Delta-Xion quadrant now—a couple million light years from home, thanks to
her navigator’s extensive knowledge of stable wormholes. A few more hours travel
would take them to the Demon’s Doorstep—the planet the notorious space station
orbited. Trin needed to be ready when they got there. Her ship, her
livelihood—even her very life depended on it.

Still,
even as she tried to turn her mind to the Eye and what she would say to B’Rugh,
its owner, the big Havoc kept crowding into her mind, demanding her attention…

Chapter
Six

Thrace
tossed
restlessly on the cot. He had slept poorly and had wakened to the quiet sounds
of Trin getting ready to depart. He’d almost called out to her—wanting to say a
word before she left. But what was he going to say—
I’m sorry?
Thrace
snorted.
Not fucking likely.
Why
would he apologize to his captor? The female who had bought him and chained him
down. The one who refused to let him up from this fucking cot? Stubbornly, he
had turned his face to the wall again and drifted back off to sleep.

He
woke again with his head pounding and a blaster shoved in his face.

“Wha—?”
He stared groggily at the blunt silver-blue muzzle hovering just above his
nose. Gods, his head was
killing
him.

“Get
up.” The steely voice belonged to a female named Sidna, who he was pretty sure
was the ship’s medic. It was her voice he most often heard arguing with Trin
about what was to be done with him.

“Can’t
get up,” he said, glaring at her. “I’m chained to the fucking—”

“I’ve
unchained you. Stunned you first in your sleep to be certain you didn’t wake up
in the middle. I’m taking no chances with you, Havoc.” She waved the blaster at
him again. “Now get up—
slowly.
This
is set to kill so don’t get any ideas.”

“Wouldn’t
dream of it,” Thrace
said dryly. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I’m
getting rid of you while Trin is gone. She’ll probably be upset with me when
she comes back—
if
she comes back. But
that’s just too damn bad.”

“What
do you mean
if
she comes back?” Thrace
sat on the side of his much-hated cot, trying to regain all the feeling in his
extremities and relishing the feeling of freedom for the first time in days.
But the diminutive medic’s words troubled him. “Why wouldn’t she come back?” he
asked, looking at her.

“Because
she’s gone into the Demon’s Eye by herself with no backup,” Sidna snapped.

“She
what?”
Thrace exploded, standing up so
suddenly Sidna jumped and shoved the blaster right in his sternum.

“I
said
slowly,”
she snarled. “Any more
sudden moves like that and I’ll blow your head off—I swear by the Goddess of
Judgment, I will.”

“Sorry,”
growled Thrace.
“But the Demon’s Eye—that place is a fucking viper pit! Every murderer,
skinner, psycho-slicer, and mind-raper in the known universe is welcome there.
Any one of them will kill you just for looking at them the wrong way. And with
that type it doesn’t matter how you look at them—it’s
always
the wrong way.”

“You’re
not telling me anything I don’t already know. Anything I haven’t already said
to Trin,” Sidna said tightly. “But she thinks she’ll be safe because she knows
the male who runs the place.”

“She
knows B’Rugh?” Thrace
could scarcely believe his ears. Trin certainly didn’t seem like the kind of
person who was on speaking terms with the most notorious crime-lord in this or
any other galaxy.

“She
beat him in a card game once,” Sidna said. “He’s been after her to come and
‘visit’ him on his home base ever since. But up until now she’s never been
stupid enough—or desperate enough—to go.”

“Why
in the Seven Hells would she go now?” Thrace demanded. “Especially
without anyone to watch her back?”

“Why
do you think? Because of
you.”
Sidna
waved the blaster at him accusingly.

“Because
of
me?
What are you talking about?”

“You
mean she didn’t tell you?” Sidna raised an eyebrow at him disbelievingly.
“Buying you nearly bankrupted her. I finally got the whole story out of her the
other night—she spent fifty thousand credits on you to get you free of that slaver
at the Flesh Bazaar.”

“Fifty
thousand
credits?” Thrace could scarcely believe it. The
sum was ten times what even the most accomplished and highly trained slave was
worth. He’d been bought at a high price the first time he was a slave but his
old Master could afford it—Trin couldn’t. “Why the fuck would she spend so much
on me?” he demanded.

“I
have
no idea.”
Sidna gave him a
withering look. “Especially since all she really wanted was a male to stand at
her back and look pretty at the Yonnie Six state functions. And you plainly
can’t even be trusted to do
that.”
You worthless piece of scum,
her tone
implied.

“She
told me she didn’t buy me for sexual reasons, like the Yonnite mistresses buy
body-slaves,” Thrace
said. “But I never knew she just wanted me for backup.” Backup he hadn’t
provided—and wasn’t providing now. Trin was alone in a den of thieves, rapists,
murders and every other kind of criminal. And he wasn’t there to help.
I could’ve been,
he thought.
If she’d trusted me enough to let me up,
enough to take me with her. If I’d given her any
reason
to trust me.

“She
bought you to save your worthless life, Havoc,” Sidna snapped. “She told me the
slaver who sold you was trying to kill you with the pain collar he’d put on
you. In my opinion, it’s a pity he didn’t succeed.” She shook her head. “Trin
always was too soft hearted—although I never knew her to let her feelings get
in the way of good judgment before.”

“I
can’t fucking believe it…fifty thousand credits.” Thrace shook his head.

Sidna
sneered at him. “You would’ve been overpriced at fifty credits-let alone fifty
thousand.”

“Look,
I can tell you don’t like me but I didn’t
ask
to be captured and sold as a slave,” Thrace growled. “Any more than I
asked
to be bought and chained to a cot
for days on end.”

“Well
you’re out of your chains now—much good may it do you. Come on.” Sidna was
poking him with the blaster again. “Get going. The sooner you’re off this ship
the better.”

“What
the fuck do you plan to do with me?” Thrace growled. “Blow me out the
airlock into deep space?”

“Don’t
tempt me.” The medic’s voice was grim. “But no—Trin would never forgive me if I
did that. For some reason she’s grown fond of you—even though you tried to
strangle her and you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head. Goddess alone
knows why but she actually
likes
you.
So I can’t kill you.”

“Then
where am I going?” Thrace
demanded.

“Into
one of the life pods. They’re fully stocked and they have enough fuel to
navigate deep space for a good long time. Providing you can push the autopilot
button, you’ll be able to make your way someplace safe. And anyplace away from
The Alacrity
is good enough for me,”
Sidna said tightly. “Now come on, let’s go.”

She
herded him at blaster-point down the narrow curving corridor to one of the far
ends of the ship. Then she pointed to a small metal escape hatch.

“There.
You can take that one. Just get in, press the big green button, and never come
back. That’s all I ask.”

“Fine.”
Thrace
opened the door and ducked his head to get inside.

Without
another word, Sidna sealed him in, cutting him off from the rest of the ship
with a final sounding
chink
of metal
against metal.

Thrace
looked
around, assessing his surroundings. The pod was cramped for someone his size
but it clearly had enough food and stores for several people so he should be
fine. The controls were simple too. He’d been piloting ships for almost as long
as he’d been alive. One look at the miniature but fully functional navicon
showed a stable wormhole just a few parsecs away. He could take it back to the
galaxy he’d started from, get
The Empress
out of dry dock and go look for his best friend and first mate, Solar who had
also been sold at the Flesh Bazaar.

But
that would mean leaving Trin to the mercy of B’Rugh and the Demon’s Eye.

Looking
out of the viewscreen at the front of the little pod, he saw the huge silver
space station gleaming ominously in the light of the red dwarf star at the
center of the system. Trin was in there somewhere…alone…unprotected. Oh, he
knew she was probably armed—she was a savvy female and wouldn’t go into a place
like that without a blaster or two strapped to her belt. But what good was a
blaster against such a hoard of dangerous, lecherous criminals? Against B’Rugh?
Thrace’d
had some dealings with the crime lord in the past himself—none of them
pleasant.

She bought you and chained you up!
snarled
a little voice in his brain.
Chained you
to a cot for days!

Because she didn’t trust me. Because I
gave her no reason to trust me,
Thrace
answered it.
And she’s only there because
of me. She bought me to save my stupid, fucking life. That damn slaver would
have killed me if she hadn’t stopped him.

He
remembered now…Sidna’s scathing words had brought the recollections of what had
happened in the Flesh Bazaar back like a fever dream. The slaver demanding that
he get off the platform so Trin could examine him…his own silent refusal…then
the horrible pain like a stinging electrical current running through his entire
body. He even remembered seeing her punch the scaly bastard in the jaw when he
wouldn’t turn off the pain collar. Trin really
had
saved his life—he owed her for that, no matter what the last
few days had been like.

Turning
to the navicon, he set a course for the Demon’s Eye.

He
just prayed he wasn’t too late.

Chapter
Seven

Trin
walked carefully but confidently through the long metal halls of the space
station. She kept her chin high and her hand near her blaster, which was
strapped comfortingly to her hip. It didn’t do to show fear in a place like
this but she wasn’t above letting people know she was armed. That was just
common sense.

She’d
taken her time circling the massive structure and picking the right place to
dock. Using one of the smaller, more distant docking zones would have been more
discrete and drawn less attention. However, it also would have meant traversing
long stretches of poorly lit corridors alone until she got to a main branch.

On
the other hand, docking in a central zone, close to the heart of the station,
meant attracting immediate attention from the inhabitants. It also, however,
guaranteed a swift getaway if the deal went south.

After
almost an hour’s deliberation, Trin chose the central zone. She was one woman
alone and she didn’t like to take her chances in the small, twisty corridors
that ran through the peripheral branches of the station. Plus, she was hoping
that B’Rugh would be willing to do a quick, straightforward deal which would
allow her to go straight back to her ship with no problems.

Please Goddessof Judgment,
she
prayed as she walked, trying not to see the eyes gleaming in the dark offshoots
on either side of the main corridor.
Please—I’ve
always followed all your precepts and held your laws sacred and holy. Let
everything go easily and well!

She
carried her credit in gold chip-coins hidden in the money belt strapped to the
small of her back. Other establishments might be linked to various financial
institutions and accept a thumbprint scan for a transfer but not here. The
Demon’s Eye was a strictly cash-only kind of place. Not too surprising
considering who ran it. B’Rugh wasn’t known for his tolerance or leniency—he
was more famous for business acumen and cruelty, though he had always been
civil to her.

Trin
had met him when she sat in on a card game of three handed thrash in a trashy
little dive in the Leffaba System. It was a complicated game which involved
periodically trading hands with the player sitting three seats from you as well
as managing three groups of cards at once.

Despite
the fact that two of the players had been Leffbas—the species that had
originally invented the game and who each had three arms and six hands, Trin
had still managed to win. B’Rugh, who had lost badly, was much impressed with
her skill and had been inviting her to come visit him at the Demon’s Eye ever since.

This
was the first time Trin had taken him up on his invitation. She just hoped it
wasn’t the last thing she ever did.

She
scanned the long, dirty metal walkway as she went, her low heeled boots ringing
against the floor. So far, so good. Though she could see the huge, lumpish
shapes and gleaming eyes of males in the side corridors, no one had accosted or
attempted to approach her yet. There
were
some leering expressions of lust and a few catcalls from time to time but that
was all…for now. Had B’Rugh put out the word that she wasn’t to be bothered? Or
were the thugs simply so surprised at seeing a lone female in their midst they
didn’t know what to do?

Whatever
the case, Trin hoped that their apparent policy of non-contact continued.
Although at some point she was going to have to ask someone to point the way to
B’Rugh…

“Greetings,
my lady,” a high, grating voice announced.

It
was so close to her and so unexpected that Trin nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I…what?”
She looked around wildly, only to see the speaker appear suddenly right in
front of her. He didn’t walk forward, he simply showed up as though he’d
materialized out of nothing.

She
took a look at him…and had to fight to keep from stepping back. He was a tall,
skeletal male with a skull-like face and boney, prominent eye sockets around
his deep-set eyes. Or
eye,
anyway.
The entire right side of his face was covered with some kind of rigid metal
mask with an unblinking purple light glaring from where the right eye should
be. He had a knife blade of a nose and thin, almost non-existent lips that were
the color of raw meat.

The
worst part in Trin’s opinion, was that a piece of his skull had been removed
and replaced with a clear, plasti-glass dome. Through it, she could see his
pulsing gray brain implanted with a few weakly flickering lights. The brain
matter around these implants was darker that the other tissue and looked
almost…rotten. But that wasn’t possible, was it? How could anyone live and
function with a rotting brain?

“I
see you’re admiring my communications array,” the male said, tapping the
plasti-glass shield with one skeletal finger.

“Oh,
uh…” Trin wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s…like nothing I’ve ever seen before,”
she said at last. Which was certainly true.

“It
used to be my link to the beings I served—they are, alas, no more.”

“That’s
too bad,” Trin remarked, keeping her hand near her blaster.

“I
had another connection too—one to a dear friend—closer than a brother. But he
died as well.” He sighed mournfully in a way that almost made Trin sorry for
him. Almost.

“I’m
very sorry to hear it.”

“Well,
it cannot be helped. People do come and go in our lives sometimes, don’t you
agree?”

Trin
thought of the big Havoc chained to his cot back on
The Alacrity—
thought of her decision to let him go when she got
back from doing the deal aboard the Demon’s Eye.

“True,”
she admitted, her heart feeling heavy for no reason she could really name.

“But
then…one moves on,” the strange male continued. “One finds new places to
inhabit, one makes new friends. The universe becomes a brighter place—yes?”

He
smiled and Trin had to keep herself from flinching away from him a second time.
Pealing back those liver-colored lips revealed spit-shiny stainless steel teeth
that were somehow even more grotesque than the exposed brain.

“Right,”
she muttered, gripping her blaster.

“Oh,
you won’t need that.” The male grinned even wider and nodded at the blaster.
“It’s quite unnecessary. I’m not here to accost you—I’m here to lead you to our
most estimable leader, Alile vuh B’Rugh.”

“I
see.” Trin relaxed a little though she kept her hand hovering over her blaster.
“You weren’t with him when I first met him, I don’t think,” she remarked. “I’m
certain I would have remembered you.”

“As
I would have remembered
you,
dear
lady.” He bowed again and came up grinning. “As a matter of fact, I am
relatively new here but I have quickly gained the confidence of our fine
leader. You might even say I am his number
Two
male.” He laughed, as though he’d made a joke. Trin didn’t join in.

“So
where is B’Rugh?” she asked tightly. More and more she felt she didn’t like
this tall thin male with his exposed brain and steel teeth. As a captain she
had learned to trust her instincts and he gave off a bad vibe. A bad,
crazy
vibe. Every nerve in her body
shouted,
run!
But she couldn’t—she
had a deal to make.

“B’Rugh
is this way—waiting for you in his main receiving parlor. Or as the other
denizens of this fine establishment call it—the Grog Hall.” He swept out one
boney hand in an elaborately graceful gesture. “Ladies first?”

“I’ll
follow you,” Trin said tightly.

“But
I do not wish to be
rude.”
He opened
his eyes wide—the left eye anyway—as though indicating his horror of the idea.

“Females
don’t expect special treatment where I’m from. We are more than equal to males
so nobody needs to go first,” Trin said brusquely. “You know the way so you
lead.”

“Very
well.” He nodded amiably enough and turned to sweep down the wide metal
corridor ahead of her. Trin breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have that
strange, crazy gaze off her face at least for a minute. She noticed that her
host—B’Rugh’s number two male as he called himself—was wearing a strange
garment. It was a long, black leather coat which fell from his boney neck to
his black boots which made dull, clanking echoes on the metal floor. The coat
fluttered against his ankles as he walked, almost as though it was alive.

Weird. Very weird.
She
wondered if he was really who he said he was and if he was taking her to B’Rugh
at all? If he’d tried to lead her off into one of the narrow, dark, side
corridors she would have balked. But so far they were simply making their way
down the wide main walkway.

She
did
notice, however, that most of the
watching males had somehow disappeared. And the one or two that remained had
looks of fear rather than lust on their faces as they watched her walk past.
Somehow Trin doubted the fear was for her. For some reason, even the largest
thugs they passed were afraid of the tall, thin male who was leading her down
the corridor. That made her even more wary of her companion but what could she
do but keep following him?

Just
as she was about to get really nervous, they came to a place where the main
corridor branched off into two smaller ones. In the exact center of the
juncture was a strange, triangular door wedged into the crease between the
corridors.

“In
here,” her companion said, turning briefly to smile at her. “I hope you’re
thirsty—it’s considered very rude to refuse a drink offered by your host here.”

“Is
that right?” Trin said neutrally.

“Oh
yes—which is why I mention it. I know you don’t wish to upset or offend the
estimable B’Rugh.” He flashed that grotesque, steel grin again and swung open
the triangular door, ducking a little to go in as the narrow point of the
triangle was at the top.

Trin
followed him carefully, keeping her eyes open and her hand on her blaster as
she stepped through the door into the dim room. She didn’t want to get cut off
from her exit so she halted just a step inside the threshold and let her eyes
get used to the low lighting.

Sure
enough, sitting at the end of a black-grass table on the far side of the room
was B’Rugh. The black-grass—which was a kind of soft fungus especially prized
for its ability to keep gems and precious metals polished and bright simply through
contact—was cut short. On it a gleaming pile of Jaxite crystals was heaped in a
shiny, untidy pyramid.

Trin’s
eyes widened as she looked at the crystals. Even from across the room she could
tell they were perfect—already cut to the right size and shape for the
dream-gas refineries of Yonnie Six. The
perfect
acquisition—these crystals would more than make up her debt if she could sell
them to some wealthy mistress. Of course, how she would get anyone to deal with
her since she was going to turn Thrace
loose and had no one else to act as her body-slave, Trin had no idea. But that
was a problem for another day. Right now she simply had to make the deal and
get her hands on those crystals.

“They
are beautiful, no?” The thick, burbling voice sounded to Trin, as always, like
someone talking underwater with a mouthful of mud. She raised her gaze
reluctantly from the small but valuable pile of Jaxite to their owner.

B’Rugh
was a Lud’om—a race that had evolved on the mud flats of Lud, a planet which
had a very wet environment. In fact, he himself looked like he might be made of
mud. His mottled brownish-green skin was covered in hand-sized patches of slime
and seemed to flow over his body in a way that was both disturbing and
mesmerizing—a constantly shifting mass even though he himself was sitting quite
still in his chair. His facial features were like drooping dough and Trin had
the idea that if she reached out to touch his cheek—or indeed, any part of
him—her fingers might sink in. Only his eyes—steady, yellow and
calculating—didn’t change.

“Greetings.
B’Rugh,” she said, stepping forward. “It’s good to see you again—I was glad to
get your message about the Jaxite.” She nodded at the pile of crystals on the
soft black mat of fungus in front of him. “I have our agreed upon price and I’m
ready to deal.”

“A
drink first, I think,” B’Rugh burbled thickly. “One cannot deal with a dry
throat.” As if
anything
about him was
dry.

Trin
shifted uneasily. She didn’t like the idea of letting anything but air pass her
lips in this hostile environment. Still, she remembered the warning B’Rugh’s
second in command had given her. She didn’t wish to offend and she
did
have a ring with a toxin sensor on
her right hand. It ought to pick up any poisons or toxins that someone might
have tried to slip into her cup.

“Of
course,” she said, nodding. “A drink to seal the deal.”

“Good.”
B’Rugh nodded to his number two male. “Drinks.”

The
male with the steel teeth bowed obsequiously.

“At
once, my liege.”

He
went to a bar behind the table and busied himself with a number of glass and
metal bottles.