CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sweat trickled down the back of Chase’s neck as he stumbled through the narrow alley alongside Parker. The three men behind them didn’t speak, but their presence—and the presence of their blaster guns—made Chase’s back tingle. He repressed a strong urge to bolt, certain that the one-eyed man would not hesitate to fire on him if given the opportunity.

With a bag of equipment slung across her back, the electrostruct led the way at the front of the group. As their path through the winding alleys of the Shank narrowed and darkened, Chase struggled to keep his legs moving forward. He pretended to trip and nudged Parker’s arm.

Parker barely glanced at him, shaking his head. “Just keep moving,” he whispered.

“Quiet up there,” barked Gorma.

The electrostruct turned down a slanted side street that opened into a small, dilapidated courtyard filled with a milling crowd of shifty-eyed Ambessitari men. They hunched together on pieces of broken foundation and lurked under the overhanging roof. In one corner of the courtyard, a group of them clustered around a squealing commotion on the ground. Most of the men paid no notice as the small group passed through and headed up a set of stairs into a ramshackle building.

When they entered the doorway, a slender woman with cascades of dark maroon hair stepped out of the shadows. “The Rezer is waiting for you,” she said in a smooth, harmonious voice. She looked from the electrostruct to the boys and tipped her head to the side, her silver eyes flashing with curiosity.

They entered a long chamber decorated with thick carpets and gilt-edged wall panels inlaid with pearl, an unexpected contrast to the rough exterior of the building. Chase glanced back at Parker, who looked as intrigued as he felt. Gorma threw open a set of wrought-metal doors and stepped into a short entryway, putting his arm out to stop the others from entering behind him.

“Rezer Bennin, may we enter?” he asked.

A loud sigh echoed from inside, and a voice rang out in a cold tone that automatically conveyed a subtle threat of pain. “Did you bring the electrostruct?”

“Yes, sir.” Gorma bowed his head and swept his hand across his forehead before grabbing the electrostruct from the group and pulling her into the doorway.

She stepped forward and made the same subservient gesture. “At your service.”

“Come in.”

Prodded by the two men on either side of them, Chase and Parker followed the electrostruct through the entryway. The first thing Chase saw when he crossed the threshold was a man standing in the middle of a richly decorated chamber, wearing a long, dark coat with huge embellishments on the shoulders. He was a beady-eyed Ambessitari like his minions, and his wide face looked as hard and cold as marble, making Chase feel anything but hopeful. This Rezer Bennin didn’t look up to see who had entered, as he seemed to be staring at something on the side of the room. When Chase turned, he saw what it was.

Maurus sat hunched on a gilt bench against the wall, with Mina lying askew at his feet.

Hearing Parker suck in his breath, Chase grabbed his arm and dug his fingers in, willing him to keep his big mouth shut. Starting a fight surrounded by these dangerous men seemed enormously foolish, and just like something Parker would do. Maurus stared at the floor, one hand raking through his hair. He looked up after they had all entered, and immediately his gaze zeroed in on the two boys. His dark eyes widened.

Rezer Bennin spoke, still fixating on Mina. “The Lyolian wishes to sell me this damaged android. You must tell me if it can be repaired and at what cost.”

The electrostruct ducked her head and hurried across the room, slinging her bag on the floor beside the android. With no gentleness, she grabbed Mina’s shoulder and laid her flat, examining the blackened scar on the bio-molding of her chest and yanking her head to the side to pry open a panel on her neck.

Maurus wrapped his fingers around the edge of the bench and inched forward, his gaze jumping back and forth between Bennin and the boys. “Are these your friends, Rezer Bennin? I thought we’d agreed on a private transaction. What are they doing here?”

“You can’t do this.” The words were out of Chase’s mouth before he could stop them. He pressed his lips together, cursing himself for doing what he’d expected from Parker.

Bennin looked for the first time at the two boys, and an expression of surprised disgust crossed his face in a way that would have been comical, had it not been so terrifying. “I have no idea,” he said slowly. “Gorma, would you like to explain why there are two Earthan boys in our midst?”

Before the one-eyed man could answer, Parker exploded, “We’re here for him, the murdering thief!” He lunged at Maurus, but Bennin reached out and snatched Parker by the throat, wrapping his wide hand all the way around his neck. He stared at Parker as if he were a talking chicken and turned back to his henchman.

“It’s, uh, we found them at the electrostruct’s shop,” stammered Gorma. “I thought maybe we could use them to barter back some of the items the Fleet confiscated.”

Parker wheezed and scrabbled at Bennin’s hand as the Rezer pulled him closer. “Barter them? Like livestock? Your stupidity confounds me, Gorma. How likely do you think the Fleet is to show us leniency if we tell them we’re holding two Earthan boys as hostages?” He released Parker, who stumbled backward into Chase, gasping. “What were they doing at the electrostruct’s?”

“I … I don’t know, sir,” Gorma stammered. The electrostruct cast a cautious glance back at the boys, but kept her mouth closed.

Bennin stared at his henchman for a long time, until Gorma lowered his head uncomfortably. On the other side of the room, a sequence of beeps rang out from a piece of equipment the electrostruct held over Mina. Bennin stalked across the gilded chamber, his long coat swinging at his ankles, and stood over her. “And?” he barked. “Can it be fixed?”

The electrostruct startled slightly and turned her head. “Yes, sir. It’s an easy fix, shouldn’t take me more than fifteen minutes.”

Bennin gazed at his new possession, his eyes glittering with greedy pleasure. “Very well.” Without even looking in Maurus’s direction, he said, “I’ll give you twenty thousand for her, Lieutenant, and no more.”

Maurus’s mouth tightened. “I’ll need that immediately.”

“I’ll bet you will.” Bennin waved his hand, and one of his men left the room. “I don’t know how you came across an android this fine, and I don’t particularly care to know. I don’t do business with strangers very often. Woe to you if this turns out to be some sort of a trick.”

“It’s no trick,” said Maurus, his eyes flashing dangerously at Chase and Parker. “I won her, fair and square.” Anger surged through Chase as Maurus spoke, as smooth and straightforward as if he were telling the truth.

Bennin had settled his stare on the two boys. The indifferent coldness in his black eyes sent a shot of fear through Chase. “Now what to do with these Earth rats. We can’t just let them go—they’ll run straight to the Fleet with news of this transaction.”

“No, we won’t—promise!” blurted Parker.

Bennin ignored him. “If my new particle disperser had arrived, I could try it out on them, but … no. I don’t want them hanging around here that long.” He turned back to Gorma. “Take them over to the port. There’s a Goxar slave trader docked there—just sell them off and get rid of them. Do not keep the profits for yourself, Gorma. You are not being rewarded for terrible judgment.”

Gorma nodded and jabbed his blaster into Chase’s arm. Chase didn’t move. Mina was right there, right in front of them—they’d gotten too close to just give up. But what could they do, surrounded by all these men and their weapons? Maurus’s dark eyes burned into him, and the expression on his face lay somewhere between a snarl and a triumphant leer. Chase tried to direct the sheer energy of his fury at Maurus, wishing he could blast the arrogance right off his face.

“You won’t get—” Parker’s outburst was cut short as Gorma slammed the butt of his blaster gun into his ribs. He doubled over with a gasp. Gorma raised the weapon again, and Chase grabbed Parker’s arm and dragged him hobbling out of the room, where they were hustled back through the courtyard and into an alley.

“You know, you don’t have to take us to the port,” said Parker with a nervous laugh. “You can just let us go.”

In response, Gorma fired a blast at the ground. Parker jumped aside with a shout as a shower of dirt sprayed against his legs.

“If it weren’t for the money, I’d just kill you right here,” the one-eyed henchman growled. “Now move!”

*   *   *

They descended into the port, a deep pit in the middle of the Shank, by taking one of the open lifts that ran along the craggy walls. Ships shot up and down in the middle of the vast space, miraculously not hitting one another or the towering metal poles that circled the basin. An assortment of vehicles filled the floor of the port, surrounded by a stream of constant activity.

Men ran among the vehicles, wheeling containers and carrying equipment. The din of the mechanics working on parked machines was deafening. What stood out most of all, however, was the cluster of gray-uniformed Fleet soldiers standing near a building in the middle of the port, and the wide berth that everyone else was giving them.

“Hey!” Gorma shouted at a pointy-faced creature who buckled under the weight of a metal crate on its back. “What’s going on over there?”

Without looking over, the creature responded in a high-pitched, oddly fluid voice. “Soldiers inspecting every vehicle. No departure without inspection.”

Gorma muttered something ugly and herded the boys forward. Chase looked around frantically, trying to see a way to slip into the crowd without getting shot. Nothing good would happen if Gorma sold them to a slave trader—a Goxar slave trader. Wasn’t it the Goxar that Parker had claimed were a species to avoid? Beside him, Parker furrowed his eyebrows and watched their captor warily.

They wound their way through the maze of vehicles and stopped in front of a long, dark freighter covered in angled spikes. A metal gangway extended down from the open entrance. Gorma pounded his blaster gun against the side of the ship.

“Traders! Got a bargain for you. Two Earthan boys, five thousand for the pair.”

A shadowy shape appeared inside the recesses of the entrance. Chase couldn’t make out anything but a pair of eerie yellow eyes.

“Five thousand!” Gorma repeated, shoving Chase toward the dark figure. Chase tried to push back against his hand. The yellow eyes didn’t blink.

From the corner of his vision, Chase saw movement and sensed something very large approaching out of the chaos of the port behind him and Gorma. The man that towered over him a second later was monstrous, at least a foot taller than Gorma, with impossibly wide shoulders and long, rangy limbs. Tawny hair fell to his shoulders in straggly knots, and a chaotic design of tattoos covered the sleek, almost feline angles of his face. A moment later, the smell hit—a rank, musky odor so overpowering Chase could practically taste it.

“Bennin?” the tattooed man barked in a coarse voice.

Gorma scowled up at him, his hand sliding down to the trigger of his blaster. “Excuse me?”

“You work for a Rezer, name of Bennin?”

Gorma’s eyes narrowed. “Who wants to know?”

Chase looked back at the entrance to the freighter. The yellow Goxar eyes had vanished. He stepped back beside Parker.

For a second the tattooed man glared down at Chase. His dark irises were ringed in electric blue, wild against the inky patterns circling his eyes. He inhaled deeply, lifting his chin in a way that looked like he was smelling both Chase and Parker. Then he turned back to Gorma. “I seek the Lyolian who had business with your Rezer Bennin.”

“Along with everyone else in the galaxy,” said Gorma. “I know nothing.”

“You lie. Everyone in the Shank knows that the Lyolian is hiding within the Ambessitari syndicate.”

“Who are you working for, tracker?”

The tattooed man grabbed his shirt. “That is not your concern. Where is the Lyolian?”

Gorma’s eyes flickered to the hand on his chest. “Take your paw off me, you stinking Kekilly dog.” He tipped his head downward to indicate the blaster gun he’d pointed at the tattooed man’s rib cage. The man’s lips curled back, and a low growl rattled in his chest.

Gorma had all but forgotten the two boys standing beside him. Chase took another step backward, and before he even had the chance to glance over, Parker yanked his arm hard and took off running. Chase dashed after him, his mind a blur of panic screaming, Run run run run.

Behind them, Gorma shouted, and a beam of blue light flashed to their right. Parker dashed past the side of a wide ship. Chase was just behind when the blue light erupted all around him. A cold feeling spread through his chest, and he staggered a few steps as though he had been shoved.

“Parker?” he wheezed.

Parker looked back at him and almost crashed into a man wheeling a piece of equipment. “Go!” he screamed, sprinting away. Chase stumbled after him, rubbing his chest. The cold feeling passed after a few ragged breaths.

With Gorma still yelling somewhere behind them, Chase caught up with Parker and zigzagged around vehicles and scrap heaps. They turned and found themselves in a loading zone where stacks of metal crates and containers created a towering maze. As they ran between them, Chase wondered if there was a way they could climb up on them and hide.

Movement flashed by in gaps between the stacks to their left—someone was running in the next row. Gorma’s shouts still sounded somewhere behind them. Had the tattooed man joined the pursuit? Or had more of Bennin’s henchmen arrived?

Chase grabbed Parker’s sleeve and pulled him into a narrow space between containers on their right. They edged their way through to the next row.

“There!” Chase pointed. The tall stacks around them made it hard to see, but they could tell that this row led straight to a lift that was readying to rise off the ground. If they ran hard enough, they could jump onto the lift and make it out of the port. Chase threw himself into a sprint and had just taken his first few paces, when a figure stepped out into the middle of the row, bringing them both to a skidding halt.

It was Maurus. And he was holding a blaster gun.

Chase took a step backward. Was Maurus helping Gorma now too? Parker cursed and wheeled around to run back the other way.

“Stop!” A flash of blue exploded at their feet, and Parker fell to the ground, screaming and clutching his ankle. Chase froze and raised his hands.

Maurus flung open the door of a container. “Get in.”

“I can’t walk,” cried Parker.

Maurus leveled the blaster at Parker’s face. “Get. In.”

Silently Chase helped Parker to his feet. Parker limped over and pulled himself inside the container, which was barely two shoulder-widths across.

Maurus pulled a communicator from his belt. “It’s container 249XU5,” he said into the mouthpiece and paused, listening. “Yes, you’ll get the money!”

Chase stopped in front of the container. “You can’t do this to us. We saved your life.”

Maurus responded by pressing the nozzle of his blaster against Chase’s chest. His eyes blazed. Chase hoisted himself inside the container, shaking with anger, and squeezed beside Parker.

Behind them, the door clanged shut, and they were engulfed in darkness.