All The Love We’ve Ever Shared (The Gladiators of Outer Space #2)

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Nina

“ W hat the fek are you doing?” Ney asks from somewhere above us. Venn is leaning against a crate, still panting. I’m tucked under one arm, and Reke’s sprawled over the both of us.

“We are hiding from our problems,” Reke announces, like he’s proud of us. His clear voice echoes around the cargo bay.

“No,” says Nina. “We’re planning.”

“And resting after our vigorous bout of rutting,” adds Reke.

“Scudding fek.” I can practically hear Ney’s scowling. “When you three have finished being completely irresponsible, come look at what is happening. The screen in the cockpit has turned back on.”

“Are the engines back on? Do we have control of the ship?” I dive out from under our makeshift tent, pulling on my sweater, but I’m not as fast as Reke, who is already jumping for the open hatch and hauling himself up.

“No,” comes Ney’s stern reply, muffled slightly as Reke pushes past her.

Venn is much slower to leave the tent, like he can’t muster the energy, and I almost climb back under just to sit with him for a few more minutes of silence. If the engines aren’t on, there’s no point getting excited about a working screen. Instead, I drag one container directly under the service hole, intending to use it as a step.

The container’s about half as tall as I am and not too heavy, considering that we scattered most of its contents over the floor and that the lid has disintegrated. Stamped across one side is the word SOLD in large black letters, and I frown because I swear that hadn’t been there before, when we’d first been exploring.

Either this container is from Earth or— “Holy shit. I can read now.”

I inspect my wristband, and sure enough, there’s my name, written in what looks to be English but which I know isn’t.

Nina Huntley. Female. Human. Earth.

“Your translator caught up?” Venn asks, standing to his full height.

“Yeah. I didn’t realize they worked like that.” Had all it taken for my translator to decode Hov writing been for me to identify the three of our names? “Are you okay?” There are dark semi-circles under his eyes, and his short hair is distinctly more ruffled than usual. I stand on my tippy toes so I can brush a lock off his forehead and tuck it neatly behind a horn. Is it possible to fall even more deeply in love with someone you’re already head-over-heels in love with?

“You worry too much about me.” He bows his head, waiting patiently for me to finish my ministrations.

“That’s my prerogative, as your Mate—and my pleasure. I enjoy looking after you.” Venn has had little practice talking about his feelings, not when he was taught that to show his emotion is to show weakness. Still, he’s never shied away from having a conversation with me when I’ve asked him how he is. I press a thankful kiss to his shoulder.

He steps closer, closing the little space between us until we’re touching. A fluttering feeling fills my chest as I remember how when we first met, it was a long time before Venn initiated touch, and now he does it all the time. I’m pretty sure I’m going to fall more in love with this man every single moment we’re together.

I’m smiling like an idiot right until I catch sight of the screen on the cargo wall opposite us. Using the costumes scattered over the floor like stepping stones, I cross to the TV, set flush with the wall.

“There’s us?” I ask, pointing to a spot in the middle of a swath of blackness.

“Yes.” Venn’s answer is clipped.

“And this is them?” I point to the swarm of other dots decorating the far corner of the screen, as if they’ve only just flown into viewing distance.

“Yes.”

“I bet this is our own special broadcast. I doubt they’d be advertising to their patrons they’re about to recapture us.”

Venn grunts. “They are baiting us.”

“They’re torturing us.”

To prove me right, the screen flickers and splits down the middle. One half shows the same screen as before—the dot that represents our ship, and the many dots that are the Hov fleet. The other half shows Venn and I, standing before a screen, watching ourselves.

I’m only wearing my sweater, in too much of a hurry to have pulled my jeans back on. My ass cheeks look startlingly pale beside Venn’s deep blue coloring and the shadows of the cargo bay.

He claps his hand over the nearest camera, and half the screen is a close-up view of his palm, before the Hov cut to another camera, this one showing us in profile.

I turn to the side so I can look directly at it. The camera is near the far corner, where the side wall curves into what then becomes the back wall, which is more like the rounded point of a triangle than an actual back wall. With the lights dimmed, it’s kind of hard to see the farthest point. There is, however, a stark shadow line down the wall, passing just under the camera, from the ceiling to the floor.

Venn rests a hand on my shoulder, and I’d been so lost in my examination that I jump as my consciousness seems to be wrenched back into my body.

“Film us. Don’t film us. Whatever.” I shrug, feigning disinterest, even as I use my peripheral vision to continue examining the shadows. There must be an indentation in the wall for there to be such a sharp line of shadows. “I’ve got better things to be getting on with than caring about what you losers are doing.” As if to prove my point, I turn my back on the screen and pretend to return to an examination of the containers and their scattered contents.

I can practically feel Venn watching me, his gaze following my every movement. I’d tell him what I’m thinking, but I can’t risk being overheard. Instead, I slowly and cautiously pick my way down the ship, acting as if I’m busy gathering together armfuls of costumes as I search for something new to wear.

I can’t quite stand the idea of putting my jeans back on, not with them all ripped down the back from the Ambassador’s razor scales. Besides, I’m feeling rather sensitive down there at the moment, and with my dirty panties upstairs, abandoned to the laboratory floor, I don’t fancy the idea of a denim seam continually rubbing against my bare labia.

I tug self-consciously at the hem of my sweater, trying to cover at least part of my white ass from the prying eyes of the Hov, even as I silently acknowledge that any cameras focusing on me are cameras not focusing on the escape pods lining the outer walls at the far end of the ship. Because that’s got to be what the indentations are marking—where the escape pods are snugly nestled against the Freighter’s two sides.

Of course, I think I only really worked out what the shadows are highlighting because I’ve been in an almost identical pod, back when the Hov first abducted me, and we were forced to abandon ship. It'd been smaller than the cockpit of this ship, with just four hammock-chairs, a simple control panel and not a lot of other room.

I’d been fighting against my captors, trying to break free and get to the other Human women, so I’d paid little attention to how we’d gotten into the pod. Looking around, I can’t see any doors. I’m guessing the proper access points are on the floor above. We must have missed seeing them when we were first exploring—and fucking.

The fact there are two escape pods has me gritting my teeth against the anger roiling inside me. When we’d to abandon the spaceship all those weeks ago, the Hov didn’t leave those five other Human women behind because there wasn’t any space for them. There’d been two pods; there’d been more than enough room for us all.

Two pods, I silently fume, and still they’d chosen to leave them behind, valuing their own lives over those of their stolen merchandise.

If ever I need to take inspiration from Venn and to keep my emotions hidden, now is that time.

“This?” With shaking hands, I hold up a random … shirt? Skirt? I don’t care all that much.

“No.” Venn picks through a few items. “This one.” He helps me dress in a tunic, putting it on under my sweater. It’s long enough that on me it’s practically a dress, coming down to my shins. Tearing a strip of fabric from another item, Venn loops it around my waist and ties it at my back, cinching in the extra fabric.

“Oh, cool, it’s got pockets.” I press close to his broad chest. “It’s perfect. Thanks.” Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss the fresh scars at the base of his throat. “Can you see the escape pods?” I ask, speaking so softly I’m worried Venn won’t be able to hear. I can barely hear my own question, and I keep kissing him, making sure my mouth never leaves contact with his warm skin so that the Hov can’t read my lips.

Venn doesn’t answer, and when I pull away, by no look or other signal can I guess if he heard.

Silently, he lifts me through the hatch, and I clamber to my feet. Venn, using the container as a step, pulls himself up after me.

Reke and Ney watching the screen and exchanging angry glares. The dot that’s our ship is still in the center of the screen, but the other dots representing the Hov fleet are significantly closer.

“How long ’till they’re here?”

Ney shrugs. “Minutes.”

I convulse, my dread transforming from an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach to actual pain in my chest. “If they want Reke, they’ll have to come aboard and get him,” I guess, speaking through clenched teeth in a desperate bid not to burst into tears. I can cry when this is all over. If I’m not dead.

“I will kill them,” Reke announces, his tail flicking. He tightens his fists, and I grab one of his hands, peeling his claws out of his palm where they’ve cut deep. Blood drips onto the white floor.

“I know.” I watch as the cuts heal phenomenally fast. I believe him, I do. But he isn’t invincible, and there are so many more Hov than us. Sooner or later, they’ll gain the upper hand. Maybe they’ll put sleeping gas in the air again. Or maybe they’ll just keep attacking until Reke eventually tires. He’s already fought so much today; he won’t be coming into this fight fresh and rested. “How will they get in?”

“They will have brought a Freighter of their own, as well as Fighters,” Venn says. He’s bowed over again, the ceiling lower in this part of the ship than below. The cockpit feels uncomfortably small, as though it’s shrunk around him. “Their Freighter will attach to one side of our spaceship, creating a seal between the two.” And he gestures to the entrance where we’d climbed into the spaceship as we ‘stole’ it from the hangar.

My imagination presents me with the image of a plane parked on a runway and the connecting tube that means passengers can get from the airport into the plane without their feet ever having to touch the ground outside.

“Surely the door’s locked.” I think back to the space station and how all the doors were sealed so tightly they could’ve survived the pressure of outer space, were it ever necessary.

“Yes.” Ney speaks her answer slowly, finally turning away from the screen to look at me. Maybe she’s beginning to realize what I’m not asking, what I’m too afraid to speak aloud for fear of being overheard. “They will have to reactivate the main power to open the external door.”

“And the engines too? Will they be turned back on?”

“I … ” She presses two of her four hands to her hips. “Potentially.”

“No,” corrects Venn. “I do not think the engines will activate when the two ships are connected.”

Makes sense. “But will the computer turn on?” I gesture to the main monitor, set into the front of the ship where a window might be on an airplane. “The database, I mean.” Which is what I think I remember Venn calling it.

“I believe so.” Venn and Ney exchange a look. Ney nods her agreement.

“Hmm.” I tug at the folds of fabric bunched around my waist. I'm assuming that in an emergency, the escape pods can still be activated, even if the rest of the spaceship isn't functioning at full capacity.

However, I can’t be sure that the Hov haven’t locked the escape pods from our control, just as they’ve locked down most of the ship’s other functions. If we tried to leave right now, we’d risk revealing our plan without being confident the pods would follow our command.

But, during the short amount of time it will take the Hov to connect the two Freighters and restore full capacity to our spaceship so that they can open the external door and board—that might just be enough time for us to access a pod and flee.

I’m like a yoyo, my emotions bouncing between fear to anger to hope and back again. My whole body is shaking, as though I can hardly keep all my thoughts inside my head. Already I’m imagining so many ways this could go wrong—like us not being able to find the door to an escape pod. Like the Hov boarding our ship faster than we can leave. Like the Hov filling the air with sleeping gas. Like— Like— Like— There are a million reasons why this could fail. It’s a seriously risky plan, leaving everything of importance to the last possible moment, but it’s the only plan I’ve got. And we’ve run out of time to think of a better one.

Suddenly, I’m not the only one shaking. The ship’s shaking too, and we all start sliding sideward. I grab hold of Reke in an attempt to stay upright, and he digs his claws into the floor to stop the two of us from piling up against the wall.

“They are here,” Ney unnecessarily announces, like we hadn’t all noticed, and she points to the monitor, showing our dot surrounded by all the other dots.

“They won’t just blow us out of the sky, will they?” My question sticks like glue in my throat.

“No.” Ney grins with grim satisfaction, displaying her rows and rows of sharp teeth, reminding me more than ever of a shark. “Ships within the same fleet cannot destroy each other. Such safety mechanisms are built into their hardware. If they want to kill us, they will have to fight us, face to face.”

“Right.” That’s something, at least. “I’m just … umm …” I'm backing toward the door, trying to think of an excuse that won’t alert the listening Hov to what I’m planning. “ I’m just going to get … some food.”

“What? Why?” Ney demands.

“Nina,” Reke warns.

Venn remains silent, entirely expressionless.

“It’s a Human thing. We always eat one last meal before we die.” I slip and slide my way out of the cockpit and down the main corridor, trying to imagine how far along the escape pods are. Everything looks so different up here compared to down in the cargo bay.

“Nina?” Reke’s so close behind me I can feel his hot breath on the back of my neck. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not hungry, Reke?” I peek into the closest bunk room, but I don’t think I’m far enough along the corridor yet.

“No.” Confusion stains his voice. “Nina, stay with Vennkor. I will … ” A falter. “I will protect you both.”

The door at the far end of the ship leads to the cells, and I know for a fact that the entrance to the escape pods isn’t in that room, because I would’ve remembered being dragged past the unconscious women when the Hov forced me to abandon ship with them.

That doesn’t leave many options.

“Here?” I step into the cafeteria and poke a few random buttons on the touch screen. With the power still virtually off, nothing happens. But I’m not actually here to get food anyway, and so I walk a lap of the room, still searching and still trying to appear as if I’m not. Hopefully, the Hov will attribute my rambling to me panicking about not wanting to be recaptured—or killed.

I run my hand along the smooth wall, using the hammock-chairs as a sort of handrail system to keep myself from slipping over.

“Nina—” Reke is sounding as desperate as I’ve ever heard him.

Then the ship lurches to the side and stills, followed by the loud sound of rushing air, like someone’s just turned on an industrial-sized air conditioner—or like the Hov have just attached their Freighter to ours and are ensuring the seal between the two ships is airtight. The overhead lights flicker, filling the cafeteria with bright artificial light. The small hatch at the back of the bench opens and containers of food and cups of water are dispensed. The TV screens lining the wall turn on to display the day’s fighting lists and a view of the Arena with two gladiators covered in each other’s blood.

Full power has been returned.

This is it. It’s got to be now or never.

“Nina!” Reke grabs my arm.

“Look.” I pull away from him, sliding to the section of wall that has remained blank, where there’s no bench or TV or hammock-chairs. I fumble, swiping both hands over the smooth stretch of wall that’s just the right size for a door, and then I find what I’ve been searching for—a button, the same white as everything else, so nearly impossible to see if you didn’t already know it was there.

Ney shouts.

Reke growls.

The ship lurches.

And the door to the escape pod slides open.