Nothing to do but keep moving forward and put her faith in her fighting skills for one final season and do the best she could to salvage something from the wreckage. If she could get back to her old level of energy, if she could ascend the charts again, surely the visibility would insulate her from further hostile moves. The public loved her, whatever Barbour and his polls might say.
* * *
One day passed with no new developments and Samyra tried to relax. She trained hard with her gladiators and was generally pleased with the state of their readiness for the upcoming season. She didn’t go to the zoo or make any effort to speak to Jamirr, difficult as it was to deny herself the comfort because if she was alone with him she’d spill out all her new troubles and there was nothing he could do to resolve any of it.
Midmorning of the second day she was in her office trying to decide which obligations to pay now and which ones could wait and exploring alternative sources of fresh trainees with little success.
Her handheld chimed and Darryl appeared in the holo field. “You’d better get out here to the tantorean enclosure right now.”
“What’s wrong? Is one of them sick?” An expensive vet bill right now would be the last straw.
“It’s Jamirr—he’s gone.”
The com cut off and Samyra rushed from her office, through the house, past the training ground and to the large area where the tusked behemoths spent their days. It was at the outskirts of the zoo and the edge of her property, bordering the wastelands stretching to the distant mountains.
Darryl waved an arm as she approached. “Over here.”
She stopped at the edge of a scene where an obvious struggle had occurred. There was blood splashed on the enclosure wall and on the ground, and Jamirr’s bracelet lay to the side, cut off his wrist by whoever had taken him. Hand to her mouth in horror, she fought not to be sick. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t show up to his scheduled session for trident and electrified net work so I figured he’d gotten too wrapped up in whatever he was doing here. I came to find him and instead I stumbled on this scene.” Darryl stared at the disturbed dirt and grass gravely. “Whoever took him must have been watching the house for a while, to know his routine. This is the most isolated spot on the compound and he’s here daily at the same time.”
“Did you call the police?” She was frantic, worried over how much time must have already elapsed since Jamirr was taken.
“I was waiting to see if you wanted them involved,” he said with an odd look.
“Of course we’ve got to call them. How else are we going to get him back?” Incredulous that he was hesitating, she took out her handheld and placed the call herself. “Bad publicity notwithstanding, a man’s life is at stake here,” she said when she’d finished the call and been assured a unit was on the way. Concern for the man she loved trumped any worries about her public reputation right now.
The police came in a flurry of sirens and officious bustling. After the uniformed officers arrived and set waist-high force barriers to protect the crime scene, a team of detectives arrived and interviewed Darryl and Samyra.
“Signs of a flyer landing in the field there,” one uniformed man reported to the detectives.
Listen, Lady Samyra, this has all the hallmarks of a staged event,” the senior detective told her eventually.
“Staged? I don’t understand—he was clearly kidnapped.” She was indignant.
“Looks like a slave escaping to me,” the junior detective said, sliding his handheld into a pocket on his police vest. “Tried to make it appear like a kidnapping, had his friends come cut off the bracelet and fly him out of here.”
She stared at him, unable to believe her ears. “That’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard,” she said. “Look at the blood, look at the ground torn up where he fought them. Jamirr is a loyal member of this household and of my gladiatorial team. He’d never do such a thing.”
“Simmer down, Beast Lady, we’re not in the arena now,” the other detective said in an appeasing manner. “We have to consider all the possibilities is all my colleague is saying, right, Brill?” He thrust a piece of paper at her and she realized it was a two-dimensional picto of her in full gladiatorial gear. “Say, would you sign this for my daughter? She has all the dolls and she idolizes you.”
Fuming, but trying to maintain a pleasant air because she needed their help, she signed the picto and then a few other items for the other men and they finally left, promising to report when there were any developments.
Samyra let Darryl see them out while she stayed at the scene of what she had no doubt was a kidnapping. The tantoreans came to the fence, extending their trunks to her as if to offer sympathy and she leaned against the older one for comfort. “We’ll get him back,” she said, patting its forehead.
Darryl returned in a few minutes. “They’re gone. Now what?”
She kept her eyes trained on the colorful power fluctuations on the force barriers guarding the spot where the man she loved had been taken. “The police aren’t going to do anything, are they?”
“You heard the guy say it’s a simple slave escape. There’s a squad to handle those but no, law enforcement won’t be able to do much.” Darryl didn’t sugarcoat his answer. “You look like you’re about to collapse. May I escort you to your rooms?”
As they walked she fought the utter panic that she’d never see Jamirr again. Darryl tried to talk to her about a press release but she couldn’t concentrate and he finally said he’d take care of it himself.
She went into her bedroom in a daze and sat on the edge of the bed, unsure what to do next. She could hire private detectives perhaps—she’d sell what was left of her mother’s jewelry, auction off her trophies and crowns and other memorabilia, whatever it took to pay the fees. “Lords of Space, there may be a demand for ransom.” She actually wanted one since that would give her hope and she could demand proof of life, but paying anything major was going to break her financially. She didn’t care about that—she only cared about Jamirr.
Her handheld chimed but when she picked it up there was no com, only a strange text.
“If you ever want to see your boy again, you’ll make sure Tirion wins the first fight of the season. You’re done, Beast Lady.”
