We’re not getting out of here.
I’ve tried everything I can think of. Prying at the vent. Disassembling the toilet to use as a battering ram against the door. Even trying to kick the door down with extra help from my ability. I’ve only gained bruises and more than a few broken nails.
The good news is, by taking apart the toilet, I’ve forced it to stay open, which means the camera is inactive. It’s a small, useless victory unless someone comes to fix it and I can overpower them. But it’s been hours with no response.
I sit in the corner on the bed, knees to my chest, wondering if what I remember is reality or not. Was Renner shot? The thought makes me feel sick, and I drop my forehead onto my arms. All that echoes in my mind is his promise to be there for me. His gentle nudge that maybe I don’t have to blindly accept my fate.
I’m at a disadvantage though. I left the court at such a young age, and everything Doyua told me felt straight out of the “how to rule like a Gravless” handbook. She cared, but the lessons she imparted were as cold as space.
A Gravless must put her people before all else.
A Gravless must rule with honesty and integrity.
A Gravless must work with the High Council to further the peace and prosperity of the galaxy.
The rules work in a vacuum, but do they take reality into consideration?
I think of the stories my mother told us. Merritt and I would crowd next to her on the observation tower beneath a galaxy of stars, perhaps where I get my love of star decks from, and she would weave tales of past Gravless and of her own childhood with her twin sister, the High Queen. They were both skilled Gravless, but Aunt Seala was older and, therefore, set to rule as I am.
The warnings our mother gave make sense now. Corruption and dissension are as disastrous as weeds in a vegetable garden. Left unattended, evil will spread and infest everything. I always thought she was talking about protecting our relationship as sisters, but now I see those lessons in a different light.
Thoughts of my sister overshadow the memories of our mother. Merritt is as much a reflection of me as one side of a moon is light and one dark. The last I saw her—when we were five—she had hair as dark as space and eyes the color of the vegetation in the green houses she spent so much time in. Her skin took to a natural tan where mine only pinked in the sun, and her laugh….
I sigh.
I remember the best and the worst of times with her. Where I followed the rules, she broke them. Where I stayed in and listened to comp-read stories, she was out adventuring through the bio domes. She was outspoken and daring. I was meek and reserved.
But now, twelve cycles later, I know nothing of her. Not even her location.
Renner floods my mind again like a crashing Cistus tidal wave. He knew where she was—or at least knew of her, which is more than I can say. Is he on this ship, just a few cells down? Did Brownus really shoot him? Is he…dead?
A rush of nausea takes me. I’m going to be sold to some outlier who makes his money selling hijacked women.
“Hey.” A voice blares through a speaker near the door, and I bolt upright. I’ve heard nothing for what feels like days, but perhaps it’s only been one. I can’t tell. “Move to the back, ja?”
Move to the back? He doesn’t want me at the door.
The thought forces me to my feet just as the locks on the door disengage. My body tenses as if the warning gathered all of my courage and thrust it to the surface. This is it. I have to take whoever is there by surprise and use my ability without it seeming like I am. I have to—
“Back. I told you!” The door opens, and Tate holds a blast pistol level with my chest. “You move. I shoot.”
The fight vanishes from me, and I resist dissolving into my sorrow. I will not cry.
His face is an impassive mask of stone. “Turn.” He spins me around, more gently than the first time he put me in here, and shackles my wrists with e-cuffs. I know better than to try and get out of them. I don’t fancy getting shocked.
Mutely, he directs me down the hallway. The first thing I notice is Eben. She’s shackled just like I am, but red blotches cover her cheeks. While I spent my time in the cell dismantling things, she resorted to tears. Good for her. I wish I’d done that because I would be out of them by now.
Tate shoves me, and another man materializes next to him. He’s rail thin with oily hair that falls in chunks over his forehead, beady eyes, and lips he licks every few seconds. And the way he looks at me…I feel like a tray of meat before hungry iduos.
“This one.” He comes toward me, hand extended.
“Huo! Price first. Then touch. Ja?” Tate pushes him away, which makes him fly into the opposite wall with a thud. Then Tate clamps on to Eben and me as he directs us to the trav-tube. He waits only long enough for the thin man to join us before engaging the lift.
The new man smells like unwashed bodies and sour wine—I may throw up. The scent only intensifies the longer we’re in the tube. By the time the door opens and he slinks out, I gulp for fresh air as I stumble forward into the loading dock.
This ship is much bigger than the Phenyx. We are in one docking bay, but there are at least three more on this side and perhaps the same on the other. A beat-up cruiser is held in place by gravnets while workers walk the path between it and the ship unloading crates.
“Where’s Brownus?” The oily man asks.
“Wait. Ja?” Tate crosses his arms but doesn’t move, staring straight ahead.
“Yeah.” The man taps his foot. Then his gaze moves to Eben and me.
She continues to whimper, her head dipped so low it’s resting on her chest. She’s the image of defeat, and somehow it gives me courage to be strong. For her and for me. I keep my head up, not deigning to look at the creep as I form my plan.
It’s clear what’s happening here. Oily and Brownus are going to strike a deal. I assume he’ll purchase Eben and me, but from the condition of his ship, he’ll turn around and sell us to a higher bidder. He has the look of a middleman.
If only I had Roper here to talk him out of it, or Freyda to turn me invisible and walk me off this ship. Or, better yet, Renner—
Tears threaten, but I force them back. I can’t show weakness.
If they take our e-cuffs off, there might be a window of opportunity. But Tate…he’s a mountain of a problem. I’ll never have the advantage over him. Even using my ability won’t help since he’s so large, and I’m weak from hunger and whatever drugs still linger in me.
But…
I flick a glance at Oily who’s licking his lips at me. Gross. I look away, but I saw enough. Sure, he’s got some lean muscle, but he’s thin. It wouldn’t take much to flip him on his head.
Without really trying, I reach out and sense the mass of him. Definitely manageable, even if I am tired and weak.
Our escape has to happen on his ship. It’s the only way.
I look over to the vessel—if you can call it that—and take stock. A lean design, whether by purpose or lack of finances I don’t know, but it’s a patchwork of parts welded to the hull, all made from different materials.
What about the crew? Who does Oily travel with? And will I be able to figure out the nav-bot?
My questions cease as Brownus emerges from the tube. He’s wearing an elegant cloak over his onesuit. It billows out behind him as he strides across the duraplast, and I want to smack the confident expression off his face.
“Pav. Glad to see you made it aboard. Is that bucket still flying?”
“Ha.” Oily—apparently his name is Pav—feigns humor while his gaze returns to me. “She runs better than a puox on race day.”
“Sure, sure.” Brownus exudes fake charm and arrogance so thick I feel the need to gasp for air.
“Let’s talk price.” Pav all but rubs his hands together with that hungry grin showcasing filed teeth. I shiver.
“Make it…” Brownus looks over Eben. “Five hundred even.”
Credits? We’re only worth five hundred credits?
“Thousand?” Pav’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. I have to rein in my own surprise.
Five hundred thousand credits is…a lot. I don’t know what most deals are like in the Outlier Rim, but that seems excessive.
Worry pricks me. Does Brownus know who I am?
“What makes this one so special?” Pav gestures to me.
“Look at her.” Brownus runs a crooked finger down my cheek, but I jerk away. He laughs. “She’s beautiful, and she can fight. Saw it on the ship vids. I know you’ll turn around and sell her for eight or nine at least. The rings will want her.”
I swallow my panic. The money they’re talking about is unheard of, but what’s worse is Brownus thinks I’m a fighter. Perhaps that’s the cause of Tate’s extra caution. Either way, the mention of the rings is what worries me most.
The Midway has made stops at planets closer to the Rim, and I’ve heard talk. The rings are fighting arenas where slaves battle for wealthy owners, or free men can take their chances to win prize money.
“Right. The rings. Still, five is a bit much. What about four for the both.”
I don’t know how much Brownus has padded his offer, but he seems indignant at Pav’s offer. “Six.”
“Forty-five.”
Brownus’s expression turns calculating. I don’t want to be sold, but the odds of me escaping from oily Pav are far greater than with Tate.
“Four-seventy-five, and we have a deal.” Brownus grins like a leonar napping in the sun.
“Deal.” Pav and Brownus shake hands.
Brownus turns to Tate. This is the only chance I’ll have, and I have to take it.
“Where’s Rex?” I’m shocked at how weak and broken I sound.
Brownus is already walking away but pauses to turn back to me. “Forget him, Trilla. You’ll have a new life fighting in the rings, and you’ll forget your past life.”
“Did you kill him?” My anger strengthens my voice.
“No, but he’ll be dead within the hour.” Brownus checks his sec-bracelet. “He and the Phenyx.”
His glee causes me to forget everything. I forget where we are. I forget Tate. I forget the e-cuffs. I lunge at Brownus with everything in me.
I’m close to outing myself as Gravless, but I halt before I throw him into the duraplast wall with every ounce of force I have. He slides back several inches but thankfully doesn’t notice. Tate yanks me back with a bone-crunching grip, and I whimper.
“Cheeky.” Brownus laughs and spins away.
“Looks like I’ll have my hands full.” Pav doesn’t look unhappy, which makes it worse.
I deflate. I don’t know what Brownus means, but there’s a good chance Renner is still alive on the Phenyx…and I can’t get to him in under an hour.
My feet are heavy as Eben and I are cobbled together and herded onto the ship. We’re led down a dark hallway and shoved into a cage.
The door slams shut, and Tate turns to leave, Pav behind him, but not before he whispers, “I’ll be back, ladies.”