Red lights flashed. A low grating sound ran through the ship. Ariel, her pretty face crumpling, asked, “What’s happening?”
“Run!” Clara’s fingers clamped down more tightly on Ariel’s arm. Her feet moved, and after a moment, Ariel’s did too. They staggered and ran down the hallways. A loud clanking noise rose above the din created by the sirens. Crewmembers ran on, their faces shocked and frightened.
Clara thought,Oh, it just figures! I hate flying, and now I’m going to die in a spaceship that must be crashing or something!
Panting, her feet sliding along the slick floors, Clara kept going. Her survival instincts kicked in. An inner voice told her to leave Ariel, who was just holding her back. Once upon a time she might have, but she wasn’t on the Under-Levels where life was cheap and saving one’s self was something everyone was taught from an early age.
The other women crowded near the pods, their faces showing their fear. A few shouting crewmembers pushed and shoved at them, thrusting them back toward the door of the pods.
Clara balked. “What if we get trapped in there? What if there’s a fire or something?”
It wouldn’t matter. Her heart sank, as she understood that. If the ship was crashing, the pods couldn’t save them, only the small escape ships could: the escape ships that were on the other end of the ship. Anger hit. She shouted, “The escape ships!”
The crewmembers kept pushing, but a few had begun to run again, headed for the bays on the other side of the ship. That action just highlighted the fear growing in Clara. If the crewmembers could, they’d save themselves and no way could those rescue ships hold them and their cargo. She screamed, “They’re trying to put us in the pods so they can get on the ships and bail on us! They are going to leave us here to die!”
Ariel shrieked. Her fist flew out. The woman packed a hell of a punch, Clara saw with some satisfaction. Now that the nefarious plot was clear, all the women fought back. One in particular, a skinny blonde, was skilled at fighting, her lean body launching across the floor and her feet and hands both kicking and punching. Clara didn’t have time to admire that. She was too busy just trying to get the crew out of her way and to the ships that were the only shot any of them had. Most of the crew deserted the fight and hauled ass for the escape ships. The women chased behind them, but Clara could feel her hopes sinking as she spotted a whole lot of those ships rocketing off into space, leaving them behind.
Scarier was the sight of a massive, battered hull right above the edges of the wide glass observation windows. Margie, her face pale, asked, “What is it?’
“I don’t know.”
Ariel said, “Who cares? Run. We have to try to get to the…”
Too late. A grating, rending sound tore through the ship. Debris and metal rained down. Clara went to her knees, her hands locking above her head. Her eyes went upward. Terror made her voice die in her throat. A long spike jutted into the ship. The thing whirled and spun and then opened, revealing a group of men.
Not human.
Something else.
They were taller than average, with wide, barrel-chested bodies. They all wore plain brown uniforms, and the first one who stepped out could have passed as a pirate from back in Earth’s glory pre-tech days. He had a raffish black beard, neatly trimmed close to his jaw, which was sharper than it should have been. His hair, also black, hung in long curls to his incredibly wide shoulders. His eyes, long and almond shaped, were a burning blue. Thick fringes of lashes gave those eyes a smoldering look.
He held up a long hand. The fingers were at least two inches longer than most human fingers. Clara got up. She put her arms out and tried to gather the other women behind her. Groans caught her attention. The crew and others had injured a few women by the spike, which must have been some kind of conveyance between the invader’s ship and the one the women were on.
He spoke softly. “We are salvaging this ship. You have two choices. Come with us, or stay while it crumples around you.”
Her rage burned high at that. Clara said, with a lot of bitterness, “So we have no choice. Again.”
His eyes took in her face. His left eyebrow hooked upward. A flash of desire hit her hard. Her hands curled up into a fist and she stuck her chin out, eyeing him carefully even though her brain was screaming at her to get the hell out of there and fast before she found herself zooming through open space without a chance of survival.
He spoke, his voice—a low and not unpleasant thing—resounding in her ears. “Sure you do. Live or die.”
Great. Same choices she had had before. The women at her back surged forward as yet another spike shot through the ceiling. That one didn’t open to disgorge anyone. Instead, it emitted a long and awfully terrifying sucking sound that sent flares of panic all through Clara’s body. Ok then. Time to go.
Margie and Ariel joined Clara in her flight across the floor toward the door. A fourth woman, one whose name Clara didn’t know yet, dashed into the tube just before the whirling door shut. Ariel gasped out, “What about the others?”
The fourth woman, a fiery redhead with pale features and a lovely mouth, shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess they’re coming.”
The tube jolted them upward. Clara’s hands whipped out, and she held onto one side. The ride up was fast, sickeningly so. She found herself blinking as the door spun open again to reveal a wide deck and a vast array of blinking equipment.
Margie said, “I guess this is us.”
The four women got off slowly. The tube descended again, letting out a high whine as it did. A tall man-creature with blonde hair and set of eyes like the others looked them over. “Were you cargo?”
Margie said, “Sort of. Brides.”
He looked amused. “Oh. So you’re not good for ransom.”
Clara found her tongue as outrage stuttered into life. “Nope.”
