The Price of Freedom (Saurellian Federation 2)

As they came closer to the door, she started to struggle against him. There was a lingering smell of blaster fire and burnt flesh in the air. He shook her roughly, forcing her to keep moving. Then they were in the doorway. For one brief second her body pressed against his. Something in him snapped; he had to touch her. He pushed her up against the door-frame and kissed her. Not a tender kiss; his mouth claimed hers. He'd fought and killed to get her; now she was his. Forever. In that instant, he knew he'd never let her go.

She twisted against him, fighting and scratching to get free. She was panicked. He could feel it in the way her heart pounded. Her fingers clawed at his chest, and she ripped something loose. His necklace?

Before he could fully formulate the thought, incredible mind-bending pain flashed through him and he dropped to the floor. He rolled there, his entire being pulsing with deep red agony. She had caught him in the groin with her knee. Again.

He forced himself to breathe, to push the pain to the back of his mind. He had to stand. Had to get Bethany. Had to continue the fight. Ignoring the agony that washed over him, he stood and faced her.

She was still at the door-frame, trapped by her own hair. It had wound around the destroyed locking mechanism. Smiling, he pulled a large knife from a sheath on his leg. He'd taken it off a dead Pilgrim just moments earlier. He raised the knife, and she blanched, whimpering. Her green cat eyes turned to his, and she whispered, "Please, don't kill me."

He laughed, the adrenaline in his veins turning to lust. Despite the lingering pain in his groin, he could feel himself swell with need.

"Oh, I won't kill you," he said, his voice low and threatening. "I'm going to f**k you. We've got a lot of lost time to make up for."

Then he raised the knife and sliced it neatly through the locks of hair that held her to the door. She quivered against him and he felt the power that was his. He was hard and ready for her. Without thinking, he lowered his mouth to hers again. His tongue pushed roughly into her mouth, branding her. He took no chances this time. His arms held her so tightly against his body that she could barely breathe, let alone attack. Finally he pulled away.

As much as he'd like to take her right then and there, he had work to do. Lifting her easily, he threw her across his shoulder and started back down the hall. She'd be safe enough with the other women for now.

They'd have plenty of time to finish what they'd started later.

* * * * *

Bethany and Moriah sat huddled together in the slave barracks. They were surrounded by women and children. Almost all of them, actually. As far as she could tell, only two women were missing and none of the children. Somehow they had all managed to survive the attack.

There were no men, however. No one seemed to know what was happening to the men, although rumors were running rampant.

They were all dead.

The other domes had been blown up.

They were going to be left here to starve to death.

They would be raped and then tortured; they would be sold as slaves.

The list went on and on…

It had been hours since the last group had been brought in. They had heard several explosions, including one massive one that had to have destroyed at least one of the domes. Hopefully not the greenhouse, Bethany thought. If they destroyed that there was no way they'd have enough food to survive. What wasn't grown in the greenhouse had been stored there.

Finally, the door opened. Two of the former slaves, heavily armed, stepped through. Behind them were Jess and Logan. The women quieted, holding each other and waiting to discover what their fate would be

"Your men are dead," Logan said, his voice devoid of emotion. A wave of alarm spread across the group of prisoners. A couple of the women burst out in tears, but others remained suspiciously dry-eyed.

More than one unhappy marriage had just been dissolved, Bethany thought.

"We didn't want to kill them all," Logan continued. "We had gathered them in the third dome and were holding them there. They found some weapons and attacked us. We had no choice but to blow the dome open to space."

Bethany shivered. It was a quick but unpleasant death; one she had feared all her life. Anyone who lived in space feared a loss of pressure.

"I tell you this because I want you to understand your situation," Logan continued. "We don't want to kill you. I consider many of you to be as much victims of your men as we were. I can see from some of your faces that you don't believe me. Ask yourselves this… If we didn't want to spare your lives, why didn't we just blow up the entire station? We had pressure suits and explosives; it would have been the safest and easiest way for us to make our escape.

"We didn't do that because we have a sense of humanity, of dignity," he continued. "Unlike your people, we respect life. But I speak for all of the former slaves here when I tell you I'm not willing to go back into captivity. If we have to kill all of you and your children to escape, we will. I would suggest that you be very, very careful over the next few days. You will do exactly as we tell you, and you will do it when we tell you. Do not push us."

The room fell silent, except for the occasional whimper from one of the captives. Bethany shivered; she had no doubt Logan meant what he said.

Jess stepped forward. His hair was slicked back with sweat, and she was struck again by the resemblance between him and Logan. Were they brothers? Had they known each other before arriving at the mining station? It was uncanny—they could have been twins.

"Bethany, you'll be coming with me," Jess said. All around her, the women started whispering. For a moment, she considered defying him, but the look on his face told her she would regret it if she did. She stood and started slowly walking toward Jess. Several gave her looks of sympathy, but even more gave her looks of hatred.

They thought she was part of the revolt, she realized. In that instant she knew she could never be safe with them again.

They would kill her.

Jess took her arm, leading her from the room. She soon found herself out of the barracks, surrounded by jubilant, newly-freed slaves. She knew the room well, had brought the food carts here every day and watched as the men donned their pressure suits, and cleaned up after them in this room.

Today was different, though. Today there were no guards.

Instead there were at least 75 men watching her with hungry eyes. She recognized many of them, but they looked different now—more threatening. Her eyes darted quickly around the room. In one corner of the room there were bodies, laid out in neat rows. Ten of them.

"They died in the revolt," Jess said quietly, his left hand holding her upper arm tightly. He walked them quickly through the watching crowd of men, right hand resting lightly on his blaster. "We were lucky; your men were taken almost completely off guard. Six of our dead died after we were almost finished. One of the guards got back in here with a control wand. They hadn't had their implants taken out yet."