Page 7 of Condemned

Chapter Four

From her sprawled positionon the thin mattress on the cold floor, Avalon had a wonderful view of her visitors.

Today was the day.

The mauleon soldiers who’d caught her were filing into the hallway beside the cells, dressed in the same motley collection of clothes and battered armor. They looked unbathed, as dirty as she felt. For the most part their long manes of hair were dragged down by grime. Even their weapons were not regulation. She’d spied on a few troops on the way out of Snaar and these guys were the pits.

Just what she deserved.

They’d still trapped her. What did that say about her?

Avalon felt her mouth tremble and firmed it. Be strong. Don’t let them think they have you cowed.

Shivering was automatic however, and impossible to halt entirely. After the sentencing yesterday, they’d stripped her of all clothes except for her underwear and bra, chained her ankle to a bolt in the floor of this freezing underground cell, and left her with nothing except the mattress, an empty bucket, a bucket of water, and a bowl of soup.

Nibbles had not been impressed with the soup, though he’d still snuggled up to her last night. Whatever he was, Nibbles ate and drank. Bots were extinct on this planet, weren’t they?

For all the warm weather outside, down here it was cold. Her prison was built on rock from the looks of the back wall. Legs folded to the side, palm on the floor, she tried to sit straighter, to look tough, undaunted. When she shifted, her near-frozen nipples dug into her bra in a most painful way.

Well, she was no wilting flower. Never had been.

She made herself eye the soldiers as they sorted themselves into a line in the hallway, their bodies sliced up by the bars of her cell. Her executioners. Avalon clutched her arms to her, shivering again.

The cells to either side were empty. She was alone with them.

Nibbles chose then to run over her leg and for some daft reason, her heart clenched. The creature had sunk its tiny claws into her. Small and defenseless, and all it did was snuggle in for warmth, eat her food, and squeak. And let her pat it. Smiling, she drifted a finger down his back, watching the white fur depress then spring up in a way only synth-fur could.

He turned to nuzzle her hand, whiskers twitching along with his pink nose.

From a distance, he’d seem a plain white mouse with pink spots, like many of the feral squeaklings. Only his little golden eyes were different from the norm.

Her eyes were watering. “You gotta go somewhere else, little one. I can’t help you anymore.”

God, this whole day was stupid. Her life was.

The mauleons began whispering among themselves. She knew their names now and glared at them, one by one, starting with their captain Takk, he of the many braids. Blue cloth spiraled through several of the braids. Threaded in, and she recalled that cloth was some sort of leader mark the mauleons used. Scars slewed across and pocked his face. Places on his scalp were bare. Shrapnel scars, she guessed.

As far as she was concerned, the war against Snaar only emphasized the stupidity of people. Mauleon DNA was ninety-nine percent the same as human DNA. Apart from their claws, fangs, broader faces, heavier bodies, and occasional tendency to grow light fur here and there, on a dark scary night, these males could be mistaken for a man. Well, one who’d OD’d on steroids.

That didn’t mean they were pretty or nice. These ones were not nice.

Next to Takk was the ugly one with the brown mane who’d held the florses, Timin, and then there was Kondio, the older, gray one. Timin she’d seen have a fit of some sort, which said she was right—these were the wounded leftovers.

Kondio, the limping mauleon, had hate burning in his gaze. He’d be the first to volunteer to stick a spear in her.

Fuck him.

Zo was last, to Kondio’s left. Sneaky Zo. Maybe the weakest of them but if she somehow ran for it, she’d bet he’d pull her down before she made a few strides.

What if she could get hold of this spear they wanted to stick in her and shove it in them? Going down fighting wasn’t just a male prerogative.

She wanted that, could taste it.

Yes, plan one, make some bloody holes in them before they... she swallowed... before they killed her. Looking from under her brow, she thought this through some more. One needed the burn of anger to be brave on a day like this, on her death day. She knew anger well.

Avalon clenched her fist, then unclenched it, felt her determination leak away.

Who was she kidding? Any one of them outweighed her by three to one.