Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,74

a natural death or had always been a desert planet. I have recently learned that wasn’t true. What did happen to the water?”

“On a world where the oceans contained fresh water rather than salt, what do you think happened to it? There are thousands of worlds crying out for fresh water. I simply provided it. Saving thousands of civilizations is worth the sacrifice of one. Surely you see how the greater good is served?”

“No, I don’t. Neither would anyone else who lives here. I’m not even a native and it angers me beyond belief.”

“What difference does it make how a world dies? Whether its sun burns too hot or too cold or it is blasted by an asteroid, they all perish in the end.”

His casual indifference was like salt on an open wound. “Maybe after millions of years or by chance,” she shot back. “The death of a planet should never be by design.” Like the Zetithian homeworld.

He waved a hand, a phony puzzled frown adding even more ridges to his forehead. “Is this how our marriage will be? Filled with constant bickering?”

She leaned forward, fangs bared. “I guarantee it.”

Her skin crawled as his lascivious gaze roved over her. “I suppose I could cut out your tongue, although I find that I am rather fond of the sound of your voice. Perhaps I will simply avoid engaging in political discussions with you.”

Choosing to ignore the remark about her tongue, which she doubted he would do in any case—after all, sex with a woman mutilated in that manner would be sadly lacking—she chuckled. “Good luck with that.” However, seeing no point in provoking him any more than absolutely necessary, she managed to refrain from adding asshole to her response.

“You are such a remarkable young woman. Independent, resourceful—even inspiring. What a pity that your spirit must inevitably be broken.”

“That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? If I submit to your will, I’ll become a different person, and without that appeal, you’ll grow tired of me.”

“Possibly. However, I am quite willing to take that risk.”

“I’m not,” she said firmly. “Not now, not ever.”

“Not even to save your friends from the arena? I am uncertain about the Sympaticon’s chances—they’re so unpredictable—but a Norludian and a pack of young Rackenspries should prove quite easy to kill. On the other hand, your Zetithian friend will provide excellent sport.”

“Why should they bother to fight? I feel sure you won’t release them, no matter how many battles they might win.”

“Quite true. Although the public outcry might be such that”—he paused briefly, then shook his head—“No. I cannot allow public opinion to sway my decisions. I never have before, and I see no reason to start now.”

So much for getting him into the arena with Moe. Then again, he was probably underestimating the level of public outcry Velkma and her compatriots could generate. Half of the population would be very hard to control.

But was it really half? She’d gotten the idea that not all of the women were to be trusted, and their capture at a supposedly safe house would seem to prove that. Even so, she couldn’t imagine that there were very many women interested in maintaining the status quo. Unless, of course, any changes would be for the worse, which on Haedus Nine, was practically guaranteed.

“Well, then,” she said. “I guess this conversation is over.”

“On the contrary, my dear Klara. Our conversation is only beginning. After all, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

“You might. But frankly, my dear Pelarus,” she said with a sneer. “I don’t give a shit.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice taking on a pleasant lilt. “You might feel differently when your friends are slated to oppose one another in the arena.”

Klara’s blood ran cold, but only for a moment. Pitted against one another, they would simply refuse to fight. Then, of course, Pelarus would tell his Nedwuts to open fire on them.

It’s hard to fight against someone who holds all the cards.

At least, he thought he did.

But what if he didn’t?

He knew about the women’s secret society, and he obviously feared them in some manner or there would be no need to urge them to stand down. There were bound to be others who were as discontented as the women—case in point, the members of her gang who had essentially been marooned here. There were plenty of other offworlders who either had nowhere else to go or weren’t welcome anywhere else. Klara couldn’t imagine that anyone would choose