“Nice work on that old rust bucket,” Ranel commented when Tarion came to the planet's surface.
“I'm glad you think so,” Tarion replied, “because it's yours now. You've distinguished yourself in battle countless times, and you've certainly earned your own command Captain Ranel.”
For once, Ranel was speechless. Finally, he managed to stutter out, “Thank you, sir.”
“That's funny,” I said with a smirk. “When you showed up here with the Wyvern, there was a moment there when I thought you were going to tell me she was mine again.”
“Not quite. The admirals and I have something else in mind for you.” Tarion handed a data display pad to me. I took one look at the image on it, and my jaw dropped.
It was the Gyygnar.
“She's waiting for you at the space docks of Thirren,” Tarion told me, clearly relishing the surprise on my face. “Pack your bags, and bring Natalie along if you wish. We're mobilizing almost the entire fleet for a full-scale assault on the Alliance's market planet. We're going to cripple the Pax economy in one fell swoop, and give those furry little bastards a taste of hell they'll never forget.”
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Chapter One Preview – Enslaved By The Alien Dragon
Yvette
A raised dais had been set up in the middle of the crowded market. Directly behind it were a series of large metal cages that created a perverse wall that framed the stage on which my life was set to change – again.
I kept my head down and tried to avoid eye contact with the Pax guard who hung onto the bars of my cage with pincer like claws. His eyes were a zealous crimson red and his teeth were large protruding shards that could take off my arm with one bite.
I had obviously offended him somehow, because he ground his teeth at me every chance he got. My instinctive response was to turn and run, but where would I go? Even if I managed to get out of this cage, Minapolis was a planet of traps and slavers. Earth was several light years away. Even its memory had turned cold in my mind.
I could feel the frenzy of excitement that punctured the air. There was a certain bloodlust that tainted the atmosphere when fresh batches of slaves were brought in. My cage was connected to several others, each with its own Pax guard. Two long lines of bare-footed human slaves were wheeling us in. They wore grey-brown, one-shouldered garments that came up to their knees. As if their clothes were not enough, they also wore thick black collars around their necks. I was sure that the Pax made those collars heavy on purpose. The weight was a constant reminder of what you were.
My hand went up to my own collar. Its thick, unrelenting grasp was claustrophobic and I remembered that first moment, years ago now, when it had first been fastened around my neck. I had spent the first week believing I would die from its hold. Those first few weeks as a slave had taught me one thing: dying wasn’t as easy as some imagined. Only when you prayed for death did you realize how stubborn the human instinct for survival was.
As we got closer to the dais, I felt a shiver run down my spine. The crowd was larger than I had anticipated. The auction hadn’t even started yet and I could see several slavers shout out bids for slaves that had caught their eye. I was suddenly extremely conscious of the three leafed clover scarred onto my right cheek. It was a warning to any who were brave or foolish enough to bid for me. I was marked. My only consolation was that the mark didn’t betray the nature of my ill advantage.
“Fresh meat coming through!” one of the Pax screamed from the head of our procession.
The crowd parted with interest and I stood in the middle of my cage, keeping my eyes downcast. There was a hum of conversation, only snippets of which I understood. The translation chip in my slave collar had been known to malfunction from time to time.
My ears were buzzing with nerves and I felt as though the tiny piece of stale bread I had been allowed for breakfast would come up if I didn’t stay very still. I pulled at my hair, trying to comb it over my right cheek in an attempt to cover my mark. The Pax guard noticed.
“That won’t help,” he jeered at me through the bars of my cage. “I’ll make sure everyone sees what you really are… trouble.”
I didn’t respond. I pretended as though I didn’t hear him. Engaging with the Pax was always a stupid move.
“Stop hiding your face,” the Pax guard insisted. “Look up. Let them see you.”
I hesitated, wondering if I could get away with avoiding his order. Snarling menacingly, he swiped at me with his claws and I stumbled back with a gasp and hit the bars of my cage. I felt its cold bite like ice against my back, but I steeled myself against the pain.
“Let them see you, whore!” he screamed.
I got to my feet and raised my chin. My hair fell away from my face and I saw several slavers look in my direction. Two six-legged Vence looked at me with interest, but the enthusiasm faded from their reptilian features when they noticed my mark. They tended to be more superstitious as a species and I knew none of their kind would bid for me.
“You look like you know your way around a bedroom,” a Nortian called out as we
