Page 8 of All or Nothing
“I think I hear movement, little one,” she breathed, leaning closer to me. “Pretend to be unconscious when the crate is opened. Follow my lead, and remember your training.”
“Okay,” I managed, my voice so small, even to my own ears. I could be about to die, if this went badly. And even if it didn’t, I’d be trapped on a spaceship with who knows how many big baddies waiting just around the corner to make my shitpile of a life even shittier. But Uraka’s steadiness settled something in me, gave me a kind of…well not courage, but a sort of stillness, a calm.
Her words from earlier came back to me:In my mind, either way we are to be meat.If I was meat, then I decided I was going to be the toughest and most unpleasant meant the assholes who’d done this to me had ever encountered.
I squeezed her large rough hand one more time, then slumped back against the side of the crate, trying my best to look like I was unconscious. On the opposite side of the crate, I heard something creak, then a rush of cool fresh air slid in with a faint hiss, cracks of light flaring blindingly beyond my closed eyelids. Heart hammering, I waited, the light growing brighter. I heard a sigh and some jingling.
“What was I thinking?” a male voice muttered, and I had to fight hard to keep my breathing deep and even. I heard more rustling, more movement, and intermittent beeps. I felt the new stranger coming closer, a spicy-sweet scent beginning to wrap around me. Cologne?
Before he could get any closer, Uraka sprung her trap: I felt her heave herself up and over to where the sounds had been coming from, my eyes flying open to take in the situation. Uraka was already on top of the guy, her thick corded forearm pinned over his throat and her knee pressing into his hand, rendering it useless. A flash of silver caught my eye and I lunged for it, hoping it was a weapon.
The new stranger—I refused to think of him as my “master”—was sputtering and gasping, possibly trying to say something, but Uraka was relentless. “Joss, can you detect anyone else beyond the crate?” Uraka growled, scanning the area she could see. I hopped over Djelani and Wren, peeking around the edge of the crate. Seeing no one, I crept out a little further, brandishing the little silver rod I’d found like it would do me some good in a firefight. I mean they do say that confidence is key, right?
It was a little gloomy in the far corners of the cramped room we were in, but I didn’t see anyone. I didn’t even see anywhere that would make a good hiding spot: it was just a plain rectangular room made of dull metal. Where the hellwerewe?
“I don’t see anyone else,” I called to Uraka, scurrying back over to the crate. “There’s no one in here besides us.”
Uraka eased up enough on her captive’s throat to allow him to suck in great gasps of air. “Who are you? Who else is on this vessel?” she growled. “Where are we headed?”
Her prisoner coughed, his skull banging into the floor of the crate with the force of it. He had horns, I realized, that were also hitting the floor and gouging into it.
“Xollen...Billieu…please…”
“Why did you purchase us? Are you some sort of deviant?”
The new stranger—Xollen, or maybe Billieu depending on what order he had answered Uraka—sputtered and hacked some more.
“No! I saw…th'rakkans. Couldn’t…leave you there. You’re…free…”
That got my attention. He’d bought us to free us? Maybe it was just a cruel trick to help this guy get his rocks off, but there was a chance, however small, that he meant that. I started shuffling to the side, trying to get a better look at the guy.
Uraka was clearly thinking the same thing about the guy’s claim that I was; she leaned more of her weight onto her knees, grinding her captive’s hands into the floor and causing him to gurgle and scream. I had to admit, I was kind of feeling bad for the guy. Uraka unleashed was scary as hell.
I finished inching around to get a good look at our master-turned-captive, and I couldn’t stop the little gasp that wrenched out of me.
“Oh no, he’s hot,” I breathed, hopefully too quietly for anyone to hear. I hated how immediate and powerful my attraction to the guy was—but then, there was a small chance he wasn’t actually a slaver, so maybe it wasn’t quitesowrong to be mesmerized by him. He was wearing an off-white medical mask, but the papery material did little to hide his chiseled jaw and large eyes the color of blooming violets. Something that looked like safety glasses were on the floor a few feet away from his head, and I also noticed her was wearing gloves and booties. Was he a sexy germaphobe? His build was slim and tall and his skin was a delicious minty kind of color. Thick horns swept back from his temples and were crusted with glittering jewelry. I could just see a sickly green bruise marring his wide, flat nose from Uraka’s attack peeking out of the top of his mask, but aside from that his complexion was enviously clear and smooth, like he’d been digitally altered.
“Uraka? What are you doing?” a small voice called out groggily from inside the crate. A moment later Djelani stumbled out to meet us, blinking hard and squinting in the dim light.
Uraka stilled, her expression growing a hair softer. “Djelani? Are you alright?”
“Yes. Who is this that you’re torturing?”
“The pipe scum who purchased us.”
“For…free…dom!”
Djelani cocked her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “He wants to free us? Then why are you strangling him?”
Uraka turned a bit to make eye contact with Djelani over her shoulder. “He could be lying. I would say it is evenlikelyhe is lying. Who buys five slaves worth at least a million credits just to let them go? No one isthatfoolish”
“Hey,” Hot Alien Guy wheezed, managing to look offended despite his position. Something about that completely ridiculous indignation decided something in me: I was going to believe that he was telling the truth. I mean sure, I was as ignorant as it got about just about everything having to do with the situation, but there was something to be said for a man who managed to give off a good vibe, right?
“Does he have a weapon on him, Uraka?” I asked. Both Uraka and Hot Alien Guy turned to look at me, and I was struck again by just how beautiful his eyes were. They weren’t like a human’s eyes: there was no white part, it was just swirly deep purple with a pale blue pupil that looked almost like it was glowing. And ofcoursethey were ringed by the thickest, curliest lashes I had ever seen, black as the silky tresses growing from his head. But I figured if he hadn’t bothered bringing a weapon, that might give his story more credit.
Uraka looked embarrassed for a moment, then turned around to pat Hot Alien Guy down. She pulled a box of something that rattled out of one of his pockets and ripped a little smartwatch-looking device from his wrist, then gave one of her signature grunts. “No weapons.” Uraka turned to me and nodded her chin at the silver tube in my hands. “Let me see that,” she asked.
I walked closer, holding the tube out to her eye level.
