Page 63

“Time for us to do our worst.” Ivy ran out of the cell, Heather on her heels.

They sprinted around the mass of snarling women to the back of the cyborgs.

Pulling off the access panel to reach the emergency override button, Heather slammed her hand onto the base of the cyborg’s spine.

Its left fist spun around and thumped into her thigh before it stopped fighting and slumped forward. Several of the women fell to the ground as it lost its grip on them.

“Mine’s not working.”

Heather looked over to see Ivy hitting the wrong part of the cyborg, smacking it on its metal butt and missing the override button by an inch.

She sprinted over, ignoring the ache in her leg from being cyborg punched. She yanked off the panel and pressed the button.

The cyborg stopped, its arms sinking to its side as the frenzied crowd pulled it to the ground.

The women roared in delight and began hugging and laughing.

“We did it.” Ivy grinned at Heather.

“We did the first step,” Heather said as she scooped up a laser dropped by the cyborg. “Now, I need to find Loka, and we need to get back control of the space station.”

Chapter 17

“They’re moving prisoners every half an hour.” Loka and Hoan had been studying the guards’ movements as the latest batch of prisoners arrived. There were six new aliens, most of them barely conscious as the cyborgs threw them into the cell before locking the door behind them.

“They must be working in rotation,” Hoan said, “going on the hunt for aliens or humans and bringing them back here.”

Loka checked the injuries of one unconscious alien. “And not taking the greatest of care when they find us.”

Hoan rubbed his stomach. “They’ve provided no food or water since we’ve been here. It must be coming up for a day now. I’d kill for a giant slab of Atarian mold bread and a gallon of Draxdan wine.”

Loka’s stomach agreed. “It shows they don’t care if the aliens live or die.” If they were treating Heather as badly, he would be having words. Words that ended with his horns impaling whoever harmed her or had allowed her to suffer.

His fingers went to the lump on the side of his head where the cyborg had knocked him out. Without nano-med patches to heal him, his head felt sore and tender. In his current state, he could barely protect himself. “We need reinforcements.”

Hoan glanced around the cell. “You think this lot will help?”

“They don’t want to be here anymore than we do.” Loka tilted his chin. “There are several Galaxars. They know how to fight.”

The cell contained thirty-five aliens. It was getting cramped, tensions were rising, and it stank like a space soccer after-party.

Hoan nodded. “Let’s see who’s willing to help us.”

Ignoring the pain in his side, Loka stood slowly. His gaze went from the Galaxars, who sat together, to the black-eyed, gray-skinned Koobs. There were two Retars, one out cold, and a group of Draxdans. They were the stars’ peacekeepers. They wouldn’t want to fight. He also noticed a single Forka. He’d made sure to keep him in his sights. Forka were ruthless, sneaky, and smart. Some called them the vampires of space—they drained you of everything of value, whether that was wealth, information, or sometimes your lifeblood.

If he could get them on side, it should be enough to take down the cyborg guards.

Loka cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. He was used to working on his own or with only Hoan by his side. Realizing he needed to influence a cell of wary strangers made him sweat. He was no diplomat.

Squashing his nerves, he cleared his throat again. “We need your help.”

Several of his cellmates glanced over. Most of them ignored him. Not a great start.

“We plan to leave this cell.”

“Good luck with that,” a Retar grunted. “In case you haven’t noticed, the cyborgs are attacking.”

“Under another’s command.” Loka focused on the Retar. He had a cut on his head that leaked blue blood down his scales.