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  “What do we know about him?” she asked.

  Gardsworn ran a hand through his green hair. Bandages had been liberally applied to one side of his face. She could see Jashu Blu’s enthusiasm in the work and doubted Gardsworn had appreciated his help.

  “Not much, but I’m grateful he was here. Without him, none of us would be.”

  Nova nodded at the man’s blunt words. They were a warning to her. Everyone knew she was out of her element, including herself, but nobody would say it outright except Kaj. Everyone relied on the older man to be her voice of reason.

  He spoke up. “He’s either a coward or has a strange code of ethics that could get us all killed.”

  Nova gave him a surprised look. “What makes you say that?”

  Kaj motioned toward the screen. “Junquit, show us the loading ramp from an hour ago.”

  The pilot conceded and pulled up the appropriate recording. Nova’s heart slowed at the sight of the gladiator dangling from the ramp. He tried to gain a handhold, but the chain between his wrists made it impossible.

  “Further back,” Kaj commanded.

  The recording scrolled backwards to where she stood on the ramp next to the Smiren. She got the call from Gardsworn, set the gun in the Smiren’s hand, and left.

  Nova could feel the questioning gazes of the others at her actions. She hadn’t thought at the time, but looking at the recording made it painfully obvious that arming the gladiator none of them knew was probably not the best move.

  She watched him aim the gun at the zippers. Bullets ricocheted off the ramp around him. He gazed down the sight looking comfortable with the weapon in his hand. But then he hesitated.

  “Right there,” Kaj said needlessly. Disgust was evident in his voice when he said, “He had a clear shot and he refused to take it.”

  She watched the SevenWolf slam back to the ground and the gun fly from the gladiator’s hand. He was thrown off his feet and would have landed among the zippers if he hadn’t caught the side of the ramp.

  “If he didn’t shoot them, why did he come to the bridge to fight?” she asked, confused.

  “He saved my life.”

  Nova turned at the sound of Guinea’s voice. The young woman entered carrying two servings of tea on a tray. Her face was pale and the tray clattered when she set it on the side table Jashu Blu cleared off.

  “Th-the big one with the spikies found me in the hall.” She looked at Nova with wide eyes. “I was wiping down the clusters like you said to, and when he asked what I was doing, I told him that.” Tears filled her eyes. “Then he grabbed me by the throat and told me horrible things he wanted to do to me.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Horrible things, My Lady. I can’t bear to repeat them.”

  “You don’t have to,” Nova reassured her. She set a hand on the young woman’s arm. “You are very brave.”

  Guinea shook her head fast enough to send her bright yellow hair waving. “I wasn’t brave at all, My Lady. I was terrified.” She lifted her head to show her bruised neck. “I thought he was going to pop my head off he was squeezing so tight.” The tears spilled free and she dashed them away with the back of her hand. She pointed at the image of the Smiren hanging from the ramp. “Then he came up and started fighting the spikey one. It was rough, but he killed him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry to say such horrible things, but the body’s still there, My Lady.”

  Nova nodded. The Smiren had mentioned taking down the other Drakornian. She just hadn’t known where. Now at least they didn’t have to search the ship.

  “Let’s watch the fight!” Jashu Blu suggested. He bounced up and down and slapped all four hands together with excitement. “I want to see it!”

  Nova glanced at Guinea’s pale face. “Let’s wait,” she said. “I need to see it later, but for now, we’ve repairs to make and cleanup to do.”

  Her crew straightened as her voice took on the tone of one used to giving commands. “Everyone knows their part. Report when you’re done.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” came the replies.

  The crew filed from the bridge. As soon as they were gone, Nova settled slowly into her captain’s chair. Her hand shook a little as she brought it up to her face. Unbidden, a tear escaped her closed eyes and trailed down her cheek.

  “What am I doing?” she whispered.

  Chapter Three

  KOVE

  Brog was right about the taste buds. I pushed up to a sitting position and held my head in my hands. Something trickled from the side of my mouth. I touched it with a finger and looked numbly at the fresh blood that colored it. At least I couldn’t taste it.

  “You up, Smiren?”

  I winced at the sound of metal striking metal. The echo inside my head let me know that I had another a concussion. I just wished I could remember how. I glanced over to see the old man from the loading ramp standing on the other side of the bars. His purple eye regarded me emotionlessly.

  “On your feet. The Captain wants you evaluated in medical.” The Verian lowered his voice and said to himself, “It’s not like we have a doctor who could do anything, anyway. Last thing I need to do is waste my time on this trash.”

  I gave him a straight look. “You know I can hear you, right?”

  He shrugged. “What do I care?”

  He put his hand to the reader beside the door, then pressed a button. It slid open soundlessly.

  I pushed up to my feet. My head pounded mercilessly, but I ignored it as I followed the man up the hall. The lights embedded in the ceiling glared in star patterns. I squinted in an effort to keep my headache from cracking my skull.

  When the door slid open to reveal the medical bay, I was surprised to see Captain Nova waiting for us. She nodded at the old man. “Thank you for your help, Kaj.”

  “How’s Junquit handling things, My Lady?”

  “She’s charted the course. We’ll be under way as soon as Gardsworn gives the all clear.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, My Lady,” Kaj replied.

  The Captain turned back to whatever she was organizing in the drawer.

  “Strip down and lay on the table,” the Verian directed.

  I was only too glad to pull off my ragged shirt and pants from Roan Seven and toss them to the floor. I was about to send my skivies to join them when Kaj coughed pointedly.

  “You can leave your underthings,” he said with a tone of exasperation.

  I glanced at the Captain. Red colored her cheeks when her green eyes met mine. I grinned.

  She shook her head and tossed something back into the drawer.

  “If you’re going for a reaction, Smiren, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Is that an invitation?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Lay on the table before you fall over. That blow to the head may have done more damage than we thought.”

  I chuckled as I settled back on the cool metal table.

  “You’re young to have so many scars,” Kaj said without any inflection in his voice.

  I glanced at him. “You’re old to not have any.”

  His face darkened and he turned away. I fought back another grin and turned my head straight.

  I was no stranger to analysis machines. The spew of information that the computer’s voice intoned wasn’t a surprise. “Multiple healed rib fractures, multiple healed fractures to bilateral arms and legs, misaligned healed fractures of the first and second phalange of the right hand, multiple healed facial fractures, healed fracture and refracture of nose, healed sternal fracture, scars from punctures and lacerations, organ contusions, minor facial lacerations, minor laceration of the forehead, and a stage three concussion along with brain scarring indicating previous concussions.”

  “We’re lucky you’re alive,” Captain Nova said dryly.

  “Are we?” Kaj questioned.

  I ignored them both and sat up. The quick movement resulted in a headache that felt as though it would split my skull from the
inside out. I pushed my hands on either side of my head in an effort to stop the pounding.

  “Smiren, are you alright?”

  The concern in her voice was genuine. I couldn’t help the surprise that filled me. Why she even cared about a mere prisoner she had purchased from the Roan Star System was beyond me. Yet when I glanced at her, her eyes searched my face for signs of the pain.

  I pushed up to my feet.

  “I’m fine,” I said. My voice was rougher than I intended. I swallowed and told her, “You might as well call me by my name. I answer to it better than Smiren.”

  Kaj strode forward. “That’s no way to address My Lady,” he began.

  Captain Nova held up a hand and he stopped in his tracks. I looked from him to the Captain. Something was strange about their relationship. Now that I put my mind to it, Kaj wasn’t the only one included in that thought. I had seen plenty of captains address crewmates and while said crewmates hopped to attention, there was none of the ardor and devotion in their expressions as I had seen on the faces of the SevenWolf crew. I didn’t know what to make of it.

  “It’s fine, Kaj.” She turned to me. “What shall I call you?”

  I glanced at Kaj. The man glared at me from just past the Captain’s right shoulder. I looked back at the Captain and said, “Kovak Sunder is my given name; those who know me just call me Kove.”

  “Kovak Sunder,” she repeated.

  A tremor ran through me when she said my name.

  Get ahold of yourself. It’s not like you’re some newborn yaken on wobbly legs.

  “A bloodthirsty ink-riddled heathen, more like,” Kaj said.

  The Captain gave him a disapproving glare. “Kovak is our guest and as such will be spoken of with at least as much respect as you give Jashu Blu.”

  Kaj lowered his gaze. “But this one came from the prison planets, My Lady. The Drakornians already tried to kill us; what’s to say he won’t, also?”

  She gave me an appraising look that made me want to pull my shirt back on. I tossed the ridiculous notion aside and stared straight back at her.

  “He fought for us on the bridge,” she said. Her gaze held mine. “I hope that we can trust you to do the same again should the need arise.”

  “Do you often have Drakornians attack your ship from the inside?” I asked.

  A smile touched her lips and then vanished again so quickly I wondered if it had been an illusion.

  “Kaj, please see to his head, then show Kovak to his quarters. He’ll need sleep and time away from these lights to recover from his concussion.”

  I was about to question the lack of a true physician, then remembered Kaj’s remark about the pointlessness of an analysis if there wasn’t a doctor to do anything about the findings anyway.

  The pain in my head had let up enough that I could walk. I was nearly to the door when another micro headache stabbed through my skull with the force and impunity of a dull icepick. A grunt escaped me and I leaned against the door with my eyes closed. The searing light from above felt as if it pierced my eyelids with needles.

  A hand touched my shoulder.

  “And get him some meds, will you Kaj? I don’t think he’ll be able to rest without them.”

  When I opened my eyes, she was gone.

  I reluctantly took a seat on the assessment table again. Kaj gathered supplies, then returned with an unhappy expression on his face. He gave the gash on my forehead a closer look, then grabbed antiseptic and surgical glue.

  I caught his hand before he could touch me. “I can take care of myself,” I told him. I couldn’t help the dangerous note that colored my words. I didn’t need anyone to take care of me.

  The Verian opened his hand. I caught the supplies in my left one before they could hit the ground.

  “Go for it,” Kaj said. “Bleed out for all I care.”

  I pushed away from the table and made my way to a mirror in the corner. I had doctored myself enough to make short work of scrubbing the blood away, smearing on a layer of antiseptic, and covering the mess in a fine line of glue. It took a few minutes to close. Head wounds tended to bleed a lot. It looked worse than it was, I was sure of it.

  The sound of the old man pawing through the drawers was rewarded by the rattle of pills in a bottle. When I reached the door, his shoulder brushed past me with enough force to remind me of a tarsat putting one of his calves in its place. I grinned at the similarity of the mottle-haired, flat-toothed bovines and Kaj. They were probably just as dangerous.

  “Come along,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ve half a mind to put you back in your cell where you belong.”

  I kept myself from asking him how His Lady would respond to that. I was fortunate enough not to still be in prison on Roan Seven, let alone in the belly of some space trawler. I knew better than to press my luck too far.

  When the Captain said quarters, I had pictured something by the ship’s engine noisy enough to prevent sleep and as small as the cell had been. I couldn’t help the way I stared when Kaj opened the door to reveal a set of rooms bigger than the medical bay.

  “This is mine?” I asked incredulously.

  “Don’t get used to it,” Kaj replied in a growl. He tossed the pill bottle onto the well-cushioned couch in what appeared to be a sitting room. “If you mess up or die, I’m not going to regret giving it to someone else. Put your hand here.”

  When he motioned to the panel, I lifted my hand up to touch it.

  “Oh, right,” he muttered. He withdrew something from his pocket. “I’m to remove these. Hold on.”

  A moment later, the thick electrocution cuffs landed on the floor.

  I stared at them, amazed that they had been removed so casually. It was the edge the SevenWolf crew had over me, the way they could control me and punish me if needed. It was also the cause of some of the worst pain I had ever experienced, and that was saying a lot. To see them lying on the floor like innocent circles of metal felt surreal.

  “Now do it,” the Verian said.

  I lifted my hand numbly to the panel. My arm was far lighter than before. The panel gave a beep of affirmation and said, “Welcome, Smiren Scum.”

  Kaj smothered a laugh as a cough and said, “I’ll reprogram that when I have time. For now, it’s accurate.”

  He then muttered something about me having limited access about the ship, gathered up the handcuffs, and left. I rubbed my wrists and watched until he disappeared around the bend.

  Another headache was threatening. I walked into the first room and slid my hand down the control panel on the wall to dim the lights. I made my way to the couch by feeling and nearly collapsed on it. Something jabbed into my backside. I pulled the pill bottle from beneath me.

  I didn’t know what they were. There wasn’t enough light in the room to read the label, and I wasn’t about to go back to the door to turn them up. Surely there was a command or something I could say that would motivate the room’s computer to do it for me, but I didn’t have the willpower to figure it out.

  I opened the lid on the bottle. A memory struck me as sharply as any concussion headache.

  “You had greatness.”

  I saw myself as a little boy hiding behind the curtain as Sir Calladar raged at Imperious Tasen Drove, the high gladiator of the Bacarian Star System. I had been but a medio at the time; I barely had enough status to dump the high gladiator’s chamber pot, which is why I was there. Sir Calladar’s entrance had caught me by surprise; I had barely hidden in time. If Tasen knew I overheard his reaming at the hand of the Grand Lord, he would snap my neck without a second thought.

  “Yet you squandered your talent in medicines that dulled your fighting instincts along with your wit!”

  A crash sounded as a bottle was thrown against the far wall. The rain of capsules to the ground was one I had never forgotten.

  “You’re finished, Tasen Drove. I strip you of your title. You’ll earn your keep as a trainer or be sold at the next bout.”

  “But Sir
Calladar, I’m still the champion!” Tasen had protested. The panic in his voice was something I had never heard before. “I defeated Centian Broost and Centian Japen during the last match. They had spears over my scimitar!”

  “The Imperious Tasen Drove I knew before you lost yourself to that Pedonian excretion would have bested them barehanded. You’re slipping, Tasen, and I’ll not be party to your grand plummet back to the medio galley.”

  “Sir Calladar, I beg you—”

  The Grand Lord cut him off. “Take my offer or consider yourself sold to offset some of the expense I’ve put into your wasted hide.”

  “Don’t even begin to pretend you haven’t made a fortune on my bouts,” Tasen replied.

  My mouth fell open. It was the first time I had ever heard anyone speak back to the Grand Lord in such a way.

  Sir Calladar’s boot squeaked when he turned on the tiled floor. “The gallows will be your reward for your ingratitude.”

  “I apologize!” Tasen scrambled to say. “My humblest apologies, Grand Lord! I overstepped myself. I spoke in the heat of the moment and didn’t consider the implication of my words. Please forgive me!”

  The door slid shut. Tasen’s voice died away. I could hear his rapid breathing; my own chest had tightened at the Grand Lord’s words. Sir Calladar never spoke empty promises. I knew exactly what would happen to Imperious Tasen Drove.

  A moan escaped the gladiator. A heavy thump told me he had taken a seat on the thick brandy bear hide chair that was the envy of so many centians. A sob shattered the still air.

  Something crashed into the wall near me with such force I jumped. My tarsat skin boot slipped on the floor and I hit my elbow on one of the many marble pedestals that decorated the room. The warkan egg vase on top teetered, then fell to the floor before I could catch it. The delicate, probably priceless item shattered into little pieces.

  The silence that followed felt louder than the shattering of the vase had been. My ears filled that void with the sound of my heartbeat as my heart threatened to burst out of my chest.