“He’s getting better quickly,” she replied, dropping her weight onto one hip, her stance relaxed. She didn’t need to worry overly much. Not here. If T’Raal wanted her dead, she’d already have breathed her last. “Surprising, since humans seem to be such a fragile species.”
T’Raal grinned, revealing straight white teeth. He was a handsome male, ticking all the right boxes. If she’d met him in the pits—and he would have been a T1, she had no doubt of that—she wouldn’t have refused if he’d extended her an invitation. But now… nothing.
“You’d think that. Wouldn’t you?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just… yeah, don’t count them out too early. Some of them? Loco is not the word.”
“Easy to say when you know a grand total of what… six?”
T’Raal smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Something like that, yeah.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Something like six? Or six? Or more than six?”
He put his hands above his head, resting them on a support strut she’d never have hoped to reach, and leaned against them. The power move left him totally open, yet made the point he was dangerous all at the same time. Only someone supremely confident in their abilities would be comfortable doing that in front of a seasoned pit fighter like her. “You’re a pushy one. Aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “I like accurate information. Less chance of fuckups that way.”
He inclined his head. “Accurate intel is always a plus. So is trust.”
She folded her arms. “Trust has to go both ways.”
His expression didn’t change as he watched her. “I’ve trusted you on my ship. Haven’t I?”
“A ship full of killers, yes. What’s not to trust?”
He tsked at her, clicking his tongue on the back of his teeth. “A little unfair. You know we have noncombatants on board.”
“Yeah…” She relaxed a little. He was right. He’d let her on board without a guard when he didn’t need to. All so she could see the male who had gotten hurt helping her. “Where is this going?”
“Well, it seems to me you’re good for Eric’s recovery. And…” he shrugged one massive shoulder. “You’re a damn good fighter. Occurs to me you’d make a half-decent mercenary.”
That surprised a laugh out of her and she echoed the words of his crewmember earlier. “Did you miss what I am?”
He grinned again. “Oh no, I know exactly what you are. Practically brought Red up, so I’m more than aware just how dangerous Krynassis females are.”
“Red?” She arched an eyebrow. “She’s only half blood. Not in the same league at all. No offense,” she added, catching his comment about bringing the other female up. How did a Lathar male end up raising a half-Krynassis child? Had his mate been raped by a clutch?
“None taken.” The expression in his eyes turned calculating. “Cards on the table. You’d make a good addition to the team. And I know you haven’t got anywhere else to go. So unless you plan on staying as a fighter…” he trailed off, watching her.
“Asshole,” she groused. He knew she was almost out of options.
“You’d get to stay near Eric.”
“That line just upped you to bastard.” Her voice rattled with anger.
He grinned. “I know. So what do you say? Probationary period and then full team membership. Standard contract. You even get your own room. Unless, of course, you want to share.”
She pursed her lips. It wasn’t a choice. Not really. “Okay, I’m in.”
T’Raal smiled broadly. “Excellent, I’ll send you the contract.”
“You do that.” She nodded, turning to go. It wouldn’t make a difference if he did or not. She wouldn’t read it. She’d just sign it.
“Zad?”
She paused, her back still to him, and turned her head slightly. “Yeah.”
“Eight. I know eight humans.”
* * *
Chaos still reigned in the pits even though the fighters had won. As with any change in management, an element of uncertainty and what the vaark loomed as the new owners of the pits started getting things in order. The cells were all open, bar one that held the pits’ former slavemaster, sentenced to fight for his freedom like he had forced so many others to do.
Of the others, some had opted to stay as free fighters to make a little money while others were awaiting news on transport home or somewhere else in the galaxy so they could start anew. One thing held true for them all. The doors were open. They were no longer slaves. They could come and go as they pleased.
In the midst of all the confusion, no one noticed as a T2 fighter made his way through the crowded corridors and up into the public levels of the arena. He slipped out of one of the side doors behind a bank of seating and headed for the public communications booths.
Casting a nervous look over his shoulder, a forked tongue flickered over his lips as he punched in a comms code. The screen in front of him stayed black. The code was audio only. He didn’t know who the being on the other end was, and he didn’t want to know. People who asked questions like that ended up dead.
“Yes?”
“You asked me to watch the female?” he said, keeping his voice low and his face turned away from the security cameras in the small lobby. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his broken claws irritating the rash there.
“And? Is she dead?”
“No,” he admitted, suspecting that wasn’t going to be welcome news.
“Then why have you used this code?”
Anger filled the voice, a malevolent note sending ice to slither down his spine. He couldn’t work out if it was male, female, or from a multi-gendered species, and quite frankly he didn’t care. The only reason he was making the call was because he owed a debt.
“There’s been a development with the pits. They’re under new management.” The words bubbled out of him like a mountain stream over rocks, falling over one another. “The fighters have all been freed.”
“And the female?”
He swallowed nervously, even though he had no cause to be nervous. When he ended the call, his debt was paid.
“Taken up with the Warborne mercenaries.”
The line went dead and he sagged against the side of the booth. That was it. It was done. He was free.
Turning, he walked away from the booth, his steps lighter than they had been for years. Or the first was. The second took a little more effort and by the third, his body wasn’t responding anymore.
He gasped, trying to drag air into lungs that no longer worked as he crumbled to the floor. He looked down, eyeball almost against the dirty tiles of the floor in the lobby. Something dark and questionable lay between them that the cleaning bots had missed.
That black stain was the last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him.
* * *
“So, I’m all good? I can leave?” Eric asked Tal as he pulled his shirt back on. The medic had just checked over his wounds, finally removing all the dressings to reveal new, pink skin where previously he’d had gaping wounds.
Eric wasn’t an idiot. He knew he’d escaped death by the skin of his teeth. If he’d been back “home,” he’d have been a goner for sure.