Page 3 of Doom Averted

Spinning around, I froze in place at the sight of the robed figure towering over me from only a few feet away. Even when I rose to my own full height, this figure still had a good foot on me, and that was saying something. Kertinal as a rule where not small, I was pretty used to being the tallest in the room. Well, anywhere except aboard the Vagabond, because my gladiator brothers were all giants like myself.

The robed figure was just a black shroud, a hood drawn down over the head so that the face was cast in shadows. There had to be some kind of technology implemented to create a blackness that was impenetrable even for eyes like mine or those of some of the many other alien races that could see well in the dark. I couldn’t see a face and didn’t smell any kind of new scent, it was as if it was just a floating cloak and nothing else.

“And you are the Master of Strewn,” I said, taking a guess at the identity of the visitor. There was a suspicious hush that had fallen over the entire engine room, just the quiet noise of tools being used. All the chatter and banter the mechanic crew had been filling the air with had halted. As my eyes darted over them, I could see each head bent down over their task in the deepest concentration, pretending their boss wasn’t there.

“So I am,” the voice drawled, it was deep, low. It held echoes in them, a kind of reverberation that was similar to the deep harmonics my own voice created, yet different too. A metal claw slipped from the folds of the robe, pointing with a sharp tip at my chest. “I have heard many things about your career. Too bad that nobody realized who you were when you were sold to the gladiator ring. Things would have turned out very different for you then.”

The claw dropped from my chest to point at the metal prosthesis that encapsulated my hands. They protected overly delicate and sensitive, burn-scarred skin, and provided strength where too much nerve damage had rendered my fingers useless.

I clenched them into fists, I was not ashamed of wearing these and needing them. At first, I’d been angry when it had happened, it had felt unjust, and it had rendered me useless. The prosthesis had changed all that, and if not for the damage to my hands, I would still be stuck in a gladiator stable, fighting for entertainment with a slave collar around my throat.

I shrugged, ignoring the indignant grumble Babbit made when that forced him to readjust his perch around my neck. “Maybe, maybe not,” I said, “Is there anything you want? Your crew is doing their job, even if they do seem intent on killing themselves.”

I really didn’t like this visit, that the Strewn Master was here could only mean that I had piqued his interest. The last thing I wanted was to draw the attention of someone directly involved in building warships. That was the whole damn reason I’d resigned my post in the Kertinillian Army and sought out a lowly position as a mechanic on a trading ship.

There was a sound that sounded remarkably like a chuckle, the hood of the Master of Strewn tipping up like he was throwing back his head. It didn’t fall off, and stayed perfectly around his face, shading it completely black, definitely a hologram of some kind. “Kill themselves? I doubt that,” he said when he was done laughing, his hood tilting to look at each of his workers. They never moved, never responded, just kept their heads down and kept working.

Of course, he doubted that because he and I both knew that they hadn’t been trying to kill themselves at all. They’d been testing me, and it had been on his command, there was no question about that. I was actually glad that particular charade was over, I hated that they’d been playing me, and I really hated that they’d been testing my skills when I wasn’t even interested in any kind of recruitment.

I just crossed my arms over my chest and gave that black space beneath the hood my best glare. I knew that most people found the Master of Strewn terrifying, that when he walked through the public halls of the station, people scattered at his feet. I didn’t feel that kind of apprehension, maybe I’d dealt with too many blowhard superiors in my military career to be that easily impressed.

Maybe working beneath the command of Ziame, the only Lacerten known to the galaxy, had made me more immune than most to scary presences. Stars, it had been Ziame who’d burned my hands to a crisp. Once you’d faced a horned, scaled, firebreathing monster in the arena, things suddenly didn’t seem so scary in comparison.

“You’re a tough one,” the voice drawled, the hood tilting to the side. “Wouldn’t you prefer working on something more challenging than this? This has to be like child’s play to you.” The metal claw slipped a little further from the cloak, revealing that it was attached to a slender metal arm, without any kind of protective casing covering the mechanic joints and wires. He gestured with it around the engine room.

I had a feeling he was purposely showing the inner mechanics of that arm, hoping to intrigue me. It was working, a little, but that didn’t mean that he could convince me to abandon my post and my friends. After I left the army, I’d been lost, being a gladiator had definitely taught me what my priorities should be. The thought made some of the agitated nerves in my stomach settle. I knew what my priorities were.

“No, I have all I could ever want or need, right here.” I delivered the statement in a firm tone, making sure that though I couldn’t precisely see his eyes, I was staring into that hood without fear, without flinching. This guy would need to be absolutely certain that I wasn’t going to change my mind, I didn’t want him to waste my time more than he already had.

There was another chuckling sound coming from beneath the hood of that cloak, then the metal claw withdrew, smoothly sinking beneath the black fabric. “I understand Da’vi Ertague, formerly known as the gladiator Doom.” Then, in the blink of an eye, the cloaked figure disappeared, winking out of existence like it was never there. It really hadn’t been there. Not just the black beneath the hood had been a hologram, the entire figure had been. I was impressed.

Reaching up to scratch beneath Babbit’s chin with a finger, I eyed the mechanics that remained with a glare. “Are you fucking done with your games? I expect top-notch work, I’ve got places to be after this so the ship better run like she never has before.” A chorus of yessir’s greeted me, reminding me sharply of what it had been like to run a full crew of mechanics aboard a gigantic Kertinillian Battleship.

I stalked from the engine room because I needed to get away from that bunch for just a little while. Not that anywhere on the ship was safe or quiet. There were crews installing weapon upgrades, one crew was in to convert more quarters into a high-tech hydroponics system, and another was refurbishing the freaking pool to supplement our strict training regimen. Most of my gladiator brothers were either overseeing those installs or hanging out with their mates in the mess hall.

In the end, I settled for the labs, which only Hina and the Doc frequented with any regularity. I needed to warn Hina to keep an eye on her pink pet, and Doc was always quiet when I needed him to be, I’d risk that.

The sound of saws hacking away on the outer hull of the ship was more noticeable when I reached one of the outer corridors. We’d received new hull plating to patch up some breaches last time we were here, this time they were fixing up more of the weak spots, the damaged places. I expected the Vagabond to look almost as good as new when they were done, but she’d be even better on the inside.

What kind of ship was the female stuck in? I wondered quietly to myself if I should already inform Ziame and Abigail about the contact, but what was there to say? I knew where she was, but I didn’t know if it was real, or a trap. My tail swished angrily behind my back, the metal tip at the end clanging against the wall and leaving a little dent.

Her voice had been so warm, so dare I think it… Cheerful? That was why I was inclined to think she was actually stuck where she was. Someone laying a trap would have laid on the distress thickly, tried to play on my heartstrings, but this lady hadn’t. She’d just talked as if I was having one of those stupid inane ‘small talk’ conversations. I shuddered, if this really was a trap, she was very good.

Barging into the lab without checking if someone was there, I tried to shake the thoughts of the female out of my head. Arianna was such a soft name, so melodic. I had caught myself murmuring it several times after that call last night as if it was a magic spell. She was really good, I felt like she had already managed to wrap me around her finger. I had never spent this much thought on a female in my life. I didn’t even know what species she was, or her age.

“What…” Luka said, startled when he looked up from where he was crouched over the broken stasis pod. The Aderian male straightened, tugging on the lapels of his white lab coat, his black eyes settling on my face. Instantly, my skin prickled and the purple lines that covered my body like jagged lightning started a faint glow. Nobody could really dislike an empathic Aderian like Luka, but it sure as fuck made me feel uncomfortable that he knew what I was feeling. I didn’t even know what I felt half the time.

“Ignore me,” I said, “I just needed a breather with all the ruckus going on in the engine room.” I paced away from where he was standing, plunking my ass down on one of the hard metal stools. I wasn’t sure if this was a sufficient distance for the male not to sense me, but I sure hoped it was.

Luka didn’t say anything else, his black eyes shiny, unreadable mirrors. Then he turned back to the stasis pod that he’d been trying to safely open ever since we’d found it in the cargo bay. He was convinced the person inside it was alive, but the system to wake the occupant had fatally broken down. To fix it, which I could, the entire system needed to be turned off. That kinda defeated the point, however, as it would kill the pod’s occupant.

“I thought you were salivating to get started on this overhaul? What changed?” Luka queried after a long silence. His hands were tapping on the top of the pod, his face turned down as he looked at the opaque plex glass covering. We couldn’t even see who was inside it, so we didn’t know if the occupant was another human or something else. The pod was a completely different model from the ones the girls had come from, so my guess was something else. My brothers and I had taken bets on it but I was pretty confident I’d win.

Tapping my tail on the desk, I let Babbit climb down my body to leap onto the bare metal surface. His long slinky body was balanced on short legs, tipped with sharp claws, and a long furred tail that he swiped back and forth behind his back. I knew that motion, he was annoyed, probably because there was no soft pillow to lie down on. I’d hidden the one he usually slept on in the engine room back in my own bunk.

“Nothing’s changed,” I said grumpily in answer to the Doc’s question. I didn’t feel like him prying into my head, so I decided to change the subject. “Let me at least look at turning that plex transparent, I think I know how.”

Chapter 3