Claimed By The Warrior Read online

  I remained silent. Like his missing legs, the subject of Sharon's escape was a sore spot for him, and I didn't want to make him mad. Better to let the effects of the drugs and plasma wash over him, so he'd relax a bit.

  “Used to be we ran things in here,” he grumbled. Clearly, he was speaking to himself more than me, so I continued to keep my mouth shut. “Used to be we could do whatever the fuck we wanted, and the jailers would just look the other way. Now the warden's on the rampage, who knows what'll happen next? Maybe he'll start sending our people down to the surface for terraforming duty.

  “Meanwhile, it's getting harder and harder to smuggle in enough rax to make a profit and keep our guys blissed out. We run out, what happens then, huh? Sives start detoxing, looking to me to do something about it, and when I can't...” He grimaced, letting the words hang in the air dangerously.

  I noticed that his fear of running out of rax hadn't stopped him from greedily smoking it all day long in his cell, but once again, I knew better than to say so out loud. Even so, I shared his concerns. A horde of dangerous criminals going through withdrawal wasn't exactly a comforting thought to me, and neither was the idea of the Sives losing their influence among the administrators.

  If enough of the jailers stopped taking Umel's bribes – or if he ran out of money to bribe them with – I could easily lose the protection I currently had. I could be assigned to terraforming shifts and die in a crash when one of the rickety terra-pods malfunctioned.

  Or worse, I could be attacked by other inmates, who'd only left me alone so far because they didn't want to risk pissing Umel off.

  But whatever happened, it didn't seem like there was anything I could do about it except sit back, wait to see how things played out, and pray that somehow, I'd find another way to stay safe in here... no matter how unlikely that prospect seemed.

  The alarm honked down at us from the overhead speakers in the cell block. Since it wasn't time for a meal, a terraforming shift, a turn in the showers, or lights-out, it could only mean that a transport vessel had arrived with a fresh batch of prisoners.

  “Thank the fucking Succubi,” Umel said. “Maybe there'll be some new Sives to add to our ranks.”

  The main door to unit seven slid open and a row of inmates marched in, wearing their newly issued uniforms and carrying their standard prison-issue sheets and pillows. The Valkredians were sporting inhibitor bolts on their foreheads to stifle their psychic abilities, just like the others of their race who were already serving time in here.

  One of them caught my eye immediately, and my breath caught in my throat. I didn't know why, but in that moment, I had a strange premonition that nothing would ever be the same again.

  He was a Valkredian, tall and thin and broad-shouldered, with long purple hair pulled back in a ponytail and magnificent black wings tinged with silver. His fangs were longer and sharper than those I'd seen on any other member of his race. He had a thin scar on one side of his face, up near his temple. The sleeves of his prison uniform were rolled up, revealing interlocking tattoos that I instantly recognized as Sive markings.

  And if I was reading them right (which I was sure I was, since Umel had instructed me on what they meant my first week in here, and I made a habit of remembering things), they indicated that he'd been a real badass on the outside. The inked patterns told stories of multiple contract killings, plus grand theft and countless other major crimes.

  I should have been frightened. Those tattoos said that whoever he was, he was big, bad news… and Sive tattoos never lied, or else the individuals wearing them would have them chopped off by the other members of the syndicate, along with whatever limbs they adorned.

  But there was something hypnotic in the way his hips moved as he walked. The way his arms swung, casually, gracefully, as though he didn't have a care in the world despite being surrounded by the most dangerous scum in the galaxy. The way he glanced around him, like he was prepared for whatever anyone wanted to try – like he was looking forward to it. His green eyes were piercing, and when they fell on me for the first time, I felt a flush creep into my cheeks.

  He was gorgeous.

  And he was walking right toward me.

  No, of course he wasn't. That was silly of me. He was approaching the Sives I was sitting with.

  Still, I couldn't help but notice that his eyes kept shifting over to me as he approached. Was that attraction I saw in his gaze – or something more? If I hadn't known better, I'd almost have sworn it was recognition... as though he'd been seeking me out, and was being drawn to me now.

  It was impossible, of course. I'd spent most of my life on Earth, and the rest of it on this fucking prison station. So there was no way we could ever have seen each other before, despite the strange sense of déjà vu I was feeling.

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. It was important to remain focused at all times in Karcerikus – especially when dealing with new arrivals who could be psycho killers or blood-gargling cannibals, for all I knew.

  “Hey, you're Hakkas, right?” Umel clasped the man's hand, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, I heard of you. Yikes, you must have been picked up for some real evil shit, if they sent you here! Well, we could sure use a man of your talents, particularly in these uncertain times. You're gonna join us, yeah?”

  Hakkas raised an eyebrow. “No. As a matter of fact, I'm going to lead you.”

  Umel blinked, surprised – then threw his head back, laughing. “Is that right, tough guy? Well, it just so happens that these guys already got someone to tell 'em what to do: Me. Here, let me give you a little demonstration.” He turned to the other Sives. “Ventilate this arrogant asshole.”

  The Sives guarding the entrance to the cell were joined by four more nearby Sives – a pair of Manaeans named Plaati and G'Rami, a fuzzy white Drekkir who went by the nickname Stoneblood, and Kelso, a wiry, heavily scarred man who was the only human to be inducted as an official member of the gang.

  They all advanced on Hakkas, pulling shivs and other makeshift weapons from the hidden pockets of their prison uniforms.

  I don't know what I expected Hakkas to do. Back off, maybe? Apologize for giving offense, and agree to Umel's leadership after all? He was clearly tough, but that didn't necessarily make him reckless or stupid – which someone would have to be, in my experience, to stand their ground against six armed Sives. I'd seen scenes like these before with new prisoners, and they always ended in a decidedly one-sided bloodbath.

  Instead, Hakkas did the unthinkable.

  He smiled. He tossed his prison-issue bundle to the floor.

  And he raised a hand, gesturing for the Sives to come at him if they dared.

  Umel threw his head back, bellowing laughter. “Oh, this is gonna be good! Just what I needed to cure my crappy mood... a little live entertainment!”

  I looked around at the jailers – they were standing in place awkwardly, waiting to see if Umel wanted them to step in. He shook his head at them, gesturing for them to keep their distance and let it play out.

  Umel still had that much clout in here, at least. But for how long?

  As a medical practitioner, I hated watching violence. On some level, I felt the impact, the brutality, the damage inflicted by every punch and stabbing. I knew better than to try to close my eyes or turn away, though – Umel always got a perverse thrill from forcing me to look on whenever a fight broke out. Another way of reminding me that he effectively owned me, and could subject me to whatever he wanted at any time.

  So I had no choice but to bear witness to what I was sure would be a gruesome mauling.

  Plaati and G'Rami closed in first. They'd served together in the Mana infantry several years ago, so their movements and tactics were in sync. Plaati brandished a shiv made from a section of his rusty metal bunk, while G'Rami swung a length of chain he'd stolen from the machine shop. They circled Hakkas like hungry piranhas, flexing their gills and gnashing their teeth.

  Hakkas stood perfectly still, every mus
cle in his body tensed and ready. I found myself admiring his grace and poise – elegant as a professional dancer, yet brimming with a lethal intensity. It made me even more reluctant to watch the inevitable beating which would follow. I tried to tell myself that based on his tattoos, he deserved whatever he got.

  But there was a nagging voice deep inside me that relentlessly insisted it wasn't true. Something about him – something I couldn't quite put my finger on – was telling me that there was more to him than met the eye.

  Whatever he really was, though, this place was about to crush him and swallow him up, just like it did with everyone else.

  G'Rami and Plaati were taking their time, leering, giggling, trying to rattle him. Suddenly, G'Rami sent the chain toward Hakkas' head in a swift arc. It was a move I'd seen him use on new prisoners before. The chain would wrap around the throat, and G'Rami would give it a sharp tug, bringing the inmate to his knees so Plaati could close in from behind and deliver the killing blow.

  Hakkas raised his left hand deftly, letting the chain snake around his forearm. Before G'Rami could react, Hakkas closed the distance between them, wrapping half the chain around the rest of his arm to secure him to his attacker... and stepping around behind him before yanking the remaining length of it up around G'Rami's neck.

  Then Hakkas advanced on Plaati, using the squirming G'Rami as a human shield. As he did, he used his right hand to pat G'Rami down until he found a backup weapon – a palm-sized, razor-sharp segment of metal taken from the hull of one of the terra-pods. Hakkas used it to counter Plaati's strike, which was faltering and uncertain due to his unwillingness to harm G'Rami.

  The shiv was knocked from Plaati's hand and went skittering across the floor.

  By this time, many of the other convicts in unit seven had drifted over to watch the fight. I saw Umel glance around at them nervously, licking his lips. This already wasn't going the way he'd expected it to, and I could tell he was terrified of losing face in front of the rest of the cell block. His position as leader of the Sives was shaky enough as it was.

  Hakkas tossed G'Rami aside and lunged at Plaati with the speed and accuracy of a bullet fired from a gun. He slammed a clenched fist directly into Plaati's nose, and I heard it snap a split second before dark streams of blood began to pour from it. The Manaean let out an anguished moan, backing off and cupping his webbed hand over the broken cartilage.

  Kelso produced a pair of heavy tools, also taken from the repair shop – one had the round, club-like head of a socket wrench, while the other was sharpened and resembled a screwdriver. He took a few cautious steps toward Hakkas, and Stoneblood followed his lead hesitantly.

  Oddly, even after Hakkas' amazing display of fighting prowess, I had no trouble believing that Kelso might still be able to take him down. In a way, he was a lot like Suzanne – in a galaxy full of dangerous aliens, they'd both proven themselves by being five times tougher than the average Earthling. I'd seen Kelso defeat hulking Xehrulians, Kroteians, even Svanteians.

  I'd tried to speak with him a few times since I arrived, to bond with him over the shared experience of being a human on Karcerikus... but he'd snubbed me bluntly each time. I got the distinct impression that he'd long since abandoned the human part of his identity. He was a Sive now, nothing more.

  “Well? What are you two doing just standing there?” Umel yowled at the Valkredian sentries (who were looking more uncertain with each passing moment). “Get in there and fight him!”

  “You can do that,” Hakkas growled to them, “and end up just like these two gill-breathers... or you can hear me out.”

  “You've got nothing to say that they need to hear!” Umel insisted... but his voice was quavering, unsteady, his bloodshot eyes darting and rolling around in his head. He'd been doing too much rax for too long, on top of the other drugs he'd been hoarding for himself to mitigate the constant ache from his mechanical legs. He was stressed to the breaking point, not to mention stoned out of his mind.

  What's more, his own people knew it. And from the look of things, they were done ignoring it.

  So instead of advancing further, they remained firmly in place, disregarding Umel and waiting for Hakkas to say his piece.

  “Before I got picked up by the authorities, I heard some things out there,” Hakkas went on. His voice was a rich, firm baritone, and the sound of it made my stomach feel oddly fluttery. “I heard the Sives in Karcerikus were losing control of their operation. I heard you weren't running things in here the way you used to.

  “I heard you were having trouble smuggling in rax and contraband... and without those things, you've got nothing against the other gangs and can be put on terraforming duty any time the jailers feel like arranging it. I heard most of you are detoxing so bad you can barely stand up straight, all while your so-called 'leader' here keeps all the goodies for himself. From where I'm standing, it sure seems like I heard right.”

  I looked over at Plaati, Stoneblood, and a few of the other Sives who were standing around. They were listening closely. Several of them were nodding.

  “So what if you did? What the hell do you think you're going to do about it? You're just one guy. What, you're gonna waltz on in here and put us back on top?” Kelso was sneering, but there was a hard, desperate edge behind his voice – one that sounded like he was secretly hoping Hakkas had a good answer.

  Hakkas smirked... then reached into his prison uniform, pulling out a vacuum-sealed green bundle the size of a fist.

  Some of the Sives gasped audibly.

  Rax. A lot of it.

  And from the color and configuration of the buds, it was a particularly potent strain.

  “By the stars,” one of the Valkredian Sives whispered hoarsely. “How did you manage to bring that in here on your first day without being caught?”

  “I have my methods,” Hakkas replied simply. “There's enough here for all of you to get healthy again, and I can bring in a whole lot more whenever I feel like it. And that's not all, either. You want Kroteian flame whiskey? Real weapons, instead of the rusty junkyard shit you're carrying now? I can make it all happen. We can make this place into our own personal playground, charge our fellow inmates a fortune to smuggle in what they want, and use the profits to make sure the jailers stay bribed and happy.”

  “Oh, yeah, big promises from Mr. All-the-Answers here, sure,” Umel snorted contemptuously. “Except apparently, what you didn't hear was that Karaak's brought in a bunch of real hardasses as admins, so now half of them won't take bribes.”

  “Then we lean on them,” Hakkas countered. “We find out which ones have secrets they don't want getting out. We have our people on the outside threaten their families. Or did you completely forget how to be a fucking gangster since they locked you up in here, you legless moron?”

  Before Umel could answer the insult, Plaati piped up: “And what are you asking from us in return?”

  “Obedience to your rightful leader,” Hakkas replied. “As loyal Sives, that's all that's ever been asked of you. So: Do we have an accord?”

  The Sives exchanged looks briefly, nodding. They weren't using words, but what they were saying to each other was clear: There was a new boss on the block now.

  G'Rami was the first to shake Hakkas' hand.

  Then Plaati, Stoneblood, the Valkredian sentries, and all the other gang members lined up to do likewise. They kept their eyes down, murmuring deferential welcomes and promises of fealty.

  Kelso was the last in line. He gripped Hakkas' hand tightly, making direct eye contact and grinning nastily. “I could've taken you.”

  “Guess now we won't have to find out,” Hakkas answered evenly.

  “Guess not.” But something in Kelso's voice made me think he wasn't quite so sure. “So what do we do now, chief?”

  “We put feelers out among the jailers and inmates,” Hakkas said. “And we make a list of who wants what, and how much. We start running product again, start collecting those rulas again, and we'll be back on to
p in a matter of days. You guys ready for that?”

  There were affirmative grunts and cheers from the Sives. A couple of them slapped him on the back.

  “But what about me?” Umel demanded hotly. “What's my place in this whole new arrangement, huh?”

  Hakkas shrugged. “You're a Sive. You took an oath when you entered this gang, same as the rest of us. You pull your weight and do what you're told, you'll always have a place among us. You step out of line, and we'll be chopping those tattoos off your body.”

  “Fine, whatever you say.” Umel picked up his rax pipe and lit it again, taking a long drag. “Come on, Paige. Come sit with me while the big boys hatch this master plan of theirs.”

  Hakkas shook his head, tucking the rax back into his uniform. “She's coming with me. We've got important matters to discuss.”

  I couldn't believe my ears. What could he possibly want to talk to me about? I'd never even seen him until a few minutes ago! Could it have something to do with the odd feeling I'd gotten when I first saw him step onto the cell block?

  No. Of course not. That didn't make any sense at all, and I didn't have time to indulge in nebulous gut instincts. Not when so much had changed around me so quickly.

  “Take me to your cell,” Hakkas said, his emerald eyes burning into me.

  “Um, yeah. Sure. Of course.” I felt a blush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. It reminded me of dates I'd had on Earth – the (admittedly few) moments when I'd invited a man into my cramped apartment, and we'd started to kiss and put our hands on each other, and he'd ask me to take him to my bedroom.

  Was that what Hakkas had in mind, too? Now that he was here and he'd established his dominance with the Sives, was he planning to claim me as his plaything?

  The thought should have disturbed me. Instead, I felt weirdly turned on.

  As I led him to the cell I shared with Suzanne, I heard Umel grumble to himself, his voice thick with rax smoke: “Yeah, go 'head. Take my gang away, why not take her too, right? Leave me 'lone in here. Maybe I can program these stupid robot legs to talk to me, how 'bout that?”