He peers over his sheaf of papers at the audience. None of us get up to leave.
“Willa, you won’t like this,” Bayne says. “Please leave.”
“Why? You won. I may see you injured, but I know the ending. You got your revenge.”
“I . . .” His mouth works, but no words come out; he’s distressed. “I was bloodthirsty. You won’t love me after you see this. Please step out.” His lids slam shut as if he’s remembering something he’d rather forget.
Frankly, I’d love to see that bastard Khour get what he deserved. Not only was he directly or indirectly responsible for enslaving me and everyone on board, but what he did to those males they carried up from under the ground? That alone should earn him the very-excruciating-death-penalty. But Bayne doesn’t want me to watch, so I won’t. I don’t want to cause him any more pain. I give him a swift kiss on the lips and say, “Nothing you could do to that bastard would be bloodthirsty enough, in my opinion, but I’ll step out.”
I make my way through the double doors and wait until the vid is over and the appreciative catcalls, wild applause, and stomping die out, then return to sit back on his lap.
“You have a good male,” one of the women calls to me as I make my way through the audience to Bayne. Several women vehemently agree.
I glance at Shadow. Word has it that Khour was indirectly responsible for the loss of his eye and arm as well as for his parents selling him into slavery. His nostrils are flared and he’s breathing heavily. Petra’s holding his hand as if her life depends on it, but in actuality, she is his lifeline.
“I’d like a copy of the vid,” he murmurs to Zar. “I’d like to watch it one or two hundred more times.”
Now that I’m seated, all I can see is his back. His shoulders are still heaving as he breathes heavily. “I hope this gives him the closure he needs,” I whisper to Bayne.
Zar must have amazing hearing, because he says, “Sextus also mentioned getting closure when we sent a copy of the vid to our pirate friends.”
The two captains now get to the heart of the matter. We have to decide what to do with the new souls aboard our ships. There are a thousand details involved in the logistics of absorbing so many new people.
After an hour of discussion, a plan begins to form. None of the new males or females are particularly keen on roaming the galaxy on either of our vessels. I think we’re all in agreement on that because most of us were wondering how we could assimilate so many people at once—none of whom appear to have any skills that would be helpful to us. Besides, none of the males have fully recuperated yet.
Only one male thinks he might be welcomed back onto his home planet. He’ll contact them soon and one of the ships will reunite him with his kin if that’s the plan. The others were either sold into slavery by their families or will be outcasts when they return after such long incarcerations. Of course, we all know none of the Earth women can return home.
There’s a perfectly good compound on Fairea. Shadow is confident he could forge a bill of sale giving us rightful ownership. It has a fully-equipped medical facility, a ludus, space vessels, gardens, and plenty of housing. These people could be self-sufficient in the compound if they want, but they’re also close to hospitals, markets, and merchants.
One of the males informed us he’s a trained medic and will be able to continue the care Dr. Drayke started for all the males and females who will settle there. There are many settlements on Fairea, including the one that has the Renaissance-like fair. So everyone has the freedom to stay in the compound or relocate somewhere else.
Most of the newcomers are so traumatized they can’t think much farther than having a safe place to sleep every night, but a few mentioned they might have skills that will come in handy on the planet. Dawn, a perky girl with the slightest southern accent asked if she could raise chickens. If circumstances were different, we could probably be friends.
There’s a great deal of discussion, especially about the fact that they all experienced abuse of some sort down there.
“The land didn’t harm us, nor did the buildings,” Abraxx says. He seems to be in the best shape of all the rescued gladiators. He has thick ropes of flesh on his head instead of hair. “And the people who did harm us are dead.” He’s not a big talker, but he seems particularly happy to have said that last sentence.
“We can put all that behind us,” Naomi says as she primly sits in her chair, acting as if it’s a throne. She’s the oldest on board, looking to be in her 40s. “There are numerous ways for us to earn money there, and the compound is easily defensible, that’s why Khour owned it.”
One of the other new women, Melodie, mentioned Naomi had regular private meetings with Khour. Although she looks innocent, something tells me there’s more to her than meets the eye.
Soon, all the newcomers are in agreement with the idea of claiming the compound on Fairea as their own. No one feels trapped or without choices, which was the deciding factor for everyone.
“All right,” Zar says seriously as he reorganizes his papers, “let’s put this to a vote.”
Although I wouldn’t have thought a room full of this many people could arrive at a unanimous decision, that’s exactly what happens.
“We’ve been through a lot,” Dawn, one of the new women says, her voice pregnant with unspoken meaning, “I've been researching Fairea since I’ve boarded
