Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,6

he already was. He was wrong. “And that’s what you intended to do with me? Sell me to the highest bidder?”

She thrust out her chin in a belligerent manner. “Absolutely. I see no reason not to go ahead with that plan.”

Narrowing his eyes, Moe gritted his teeth so hard, he half expected them to crack. “My father was a slave for twenty years, and so was yours. We’ve all suffered from Grekkor’s vendetta against our people, but the rest of us have at least retained a few shreds of decency. You, on the other hand, are the most greedy, heartless bitch in existence, and I’ve had just about enough of you.” Sneering, he leaned back, set the pistol for a light stun, and pointed it right at her nose, which no longer seemed even the slightest bit pretty. “Nighty-night, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, pulse pistol fire wasn’t exactly silent. Moe barely had time to adjust the stun setting and leap to his feet before the door flew open and a Sympaticon and a Norludian came running in, both of them armed.

Moe didn’t hesitate. Firing first, he dropped them both with a wide stun blast.

After hopping over their inert forms, he ran into the guard room. Barely taking stock of the contents, he spotted his own belongings scattered across an already cluttered table next to the half-eaten remains of a pizza and two bottles of Markelian ale. His boots sat against the dirty, crumbling wall. Clearly, his captor wasn’t plowing the money from the sale of any gladiator slaves back into her headquarters.

He was strapping on his holster when a trio of Rackenspries came barreling through the door. Thankful that his reflexes were better than theirs, he dispatched them as easily as the other two. Silence fell the moment their hairy little rat-like bodies hit the floor. Hoping those three were all that remained of the gang, he yanked on his boots, pocketed his comlink, snatched a slice of the pizza and a bottle of ale, and jumped over the pile of Racks.

Once outside, the décor improved, but only slightly. The door to the street was locked, but the kill setting was more than enough to disrupt the mechanism. He ran out into the street.

“Damn. I thought I was in the poor side of town before.”

Trash and debris littered a dusty road that didn’t appear to have ever been paved. Derelict buildings, many of which teetered on the brink of collapse, lined both sides of the empty street. If anyone lived nearby, they were either hiding or had left for the day. For a gang of slavers not wishing to be disturbed, the setting was ideal.

Figuring he should at least get out of sight, Moe darted across the street, ran down an equally deserted alleyway, and hid behind a fallen awning. After finally taking the opportunity to relieve himself on a pile of dirt, he pulled out his comlink and called Nevid.

And waited.

And waited.

And then waited some more.

Activating the ship locator, all he received was an Out of Range notification.

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered. “She couldn’t possibly have taken me offworld.”

If he’d had any doubts as to his present location, the weird smell he’d noticed the moment he’d gotten a whiff of Haedusian air would’ve provided the necessary proof. Which could only mean one thing…

“That lowlife bastard stole my ship.”

He should’ve known better than to trust a Vessonian. Although on a world like Haedus Nine, it was distinctly possible that Nevid had been attacked by someone else who then made off with the Tequila Sunrise. The spaceport had been crawling with the riffraff of the galaxy, including a fair number of Nedwuts. Moe could’ve picked a fight with anyone there and no one would’ve stopped him. But that was hindsight talking.

“I really liked that ship.”

Snarling, he took a bite of the pizza, which was cold, but otherwise edible, before chasing it with a swig of ale. As matters now stood, he wished he’d taken the rest of the pizza and the other bottle of ale, even though having retrieved his wallet, he could probably at least feed himself. For a while.

That was, if they hadn’t taken his cash.

A quick check of the contents revealed that they had indeed taken every last credit. He had his identchip, which would enable him to access his bank account—if he could find a portal on this horrid planet.

I should’ve known giving free rein to my anger would only get me in trouble.

He still couldn’t pinpoint the source of his