The Price of Freedom

Chapter Five

Jess was growing restless. It was so hard to keep up his pretense of being an invalid. Ten cycles had passed since his accident and the men were nearly ready for their revolt. He could tell that if they didn't move soon they'd have problems. Bose had been in to check on him once already. Something about the man's manner, standing over him in utter silence as his hands twitched uncontrollably, made Jess even more nervous than he'd been before. He wasn't sure the station leader would give him the full two weeks.

Bethany wasn't making things any easier for him. Initially she had been so attentive; something he'd done changed that. He suspected she'd seen him hiding one of the pain tabs. Now she watched him like a hawk, and their supply of pain killers had stopped. She might not know what was up, but she no certainly longer trusted Jess and Bragan. That was clear enough. She wasn't willing to touch him any more. Jess missed those touches more than he cared to admit. It had been so wonderful to feel her against his skin.

From the gentle sensation of her fingers against his cheek to the softness of her breast against his head, everything about her mesmerized him. Watching her every day without once being able to touch her was unbearable.

Even more unbearable was the fact that he couldn't do anything to counteract her newfound caution.

If he pinned her against a wall, took her in the storeroom, she would know he was much stronger than he pretended to be. The game would be over.

Still, he burned for her. He pretended he was tired of staying in the close confines of the storage room, told her he needed to get out and move a bit. Every morning she watched with hooded eyes while he slowly and painfully walked out into the main room, settling on a pallet he made from his blankets. She never offered to help him, although she took care to make sure he had water at all times.

Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind leaving him alone in the room as she ran her errands. Whatever she was afraid of, it never occurred to her that he might steal her supplies, he thought grimly. He now had a wickedly sharp pair of scissors in his possession, as well as a small knife. They might be small but he figured they would be more than enough to slit a man's throat. All he had to do was kill the two guards at the head of the mineshaft. Then he could free Logan and the 28 other men who had volunteered to have their implants removed…

He closed his eyes in sadness for a moment. There were supposed to be 30 men. Two had died under Bragan's knife. Officially, the Pilgrims believed they'd been killed in mining accidents. Everything was ready; it was time to make their move. One more cycle and he would creep softly down the tunnel toward the guards. He would slit their throats slowly and deliberately, then send the elevator down for Logan and the men. Timing was everything. He had to move right after the guards changed shifts, mid-cycle. This meant the men he had to kill would be relatively fresh, which concerned him. But the added benefits of striking while the entire station slept and no change of guard was expected seemed worth the risk. He and Logan had gone over the escape a hundred times over the past few cycles, while he was ostensibly "showering" in the slave barracks with Bragan's help.

Their plans were clear.

Bethany was the key to those plans. He would take her hostage, then they'd use her to trick the guards into opening the locked door to the mining complex. He didn't like the idea, of course. She would be in some danger right at the beginning. But they were at war and she was his enemy's daughter. After the next cycle he would never be a slave again; she was a necessary part of that. It was too late for regrets.

She came into the room with the first of the food carts, interrupting his thoughts. He nodded at her.

It still amazed him that they would leave her alone with him for hours at a time, no sign of a guard. Just one more example that she was of little value to her people. He thought of his sister Calla, and his heart ached. No matter what she did, whatever personal failings she might have, he would never have treated her the way Bethany's family treated her.

It simply wasn't right.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him courteously. She used her foot to kick down the cart's brake and walked over to the counter.

He already knew what she was doing—she was getting him his bowl of gruel before it got cold.

Why she did it he had no idea. His company seemed to make her nervous; for all she knew his very existence could cost her life. Yet she still took the time to bring him his food before it had time to cool.

"Enjoy your dinner," she said, giving him a brief smile. "I have to go and get the other carts."

"Thank you," he said politely, reaching out to take the bowl from her. He deliberately stretched his fingers so he could touch her hand. That spark of awareness leapt between them, and he tried to capture her gaze with his. He loved looking deep into those cat eyes. Too bad she was afraid to meet his stare.

"I have to go," she said, her voice cracking.

Jess smiled. She could pretend all she wanted but there was no way she could deny their attraction.

She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Once the revolt was over and the station belonged to the slaves, he was going to make her admit it.

Bethany put both hands against the small of her back, enjoying the way it stretched her aching spine.

The carts were so heavy… at least she was done with them for now. The men were locked in their barracks. Soon the blasting crews would enter the mine, and she should get some sleep.

But even as she walked toward her father's apartment, she couldn't stop thinking about Jess. It was getting harder and harder to ignore him. She'd realized fairly early on, within the first few days of his waking up, that he was taking advantage of her.

And to think she'd felt so dirty and wicked for having thoughts about him. After all, he was an injured man who relied on her for his very survival. That was until he'd shifted position as she was feeding him, pressing his erection against her rather blatantly. Suddenly she had realized the attraction wasn't one sided. It hadn't taken long after that to understand he was milking her for all she was worth. Every time she helped him, he was doing his best to feel her up. Worse, he was hoarding his pain pills. She had to put a stop to it; or he might end up addicted. This kind of complication was the last thing she needed in her life.

Of course, she understood he was still very sick. Privately she wondered if he would be able to return to the mine in time to meet their deadline. They'd only discussed it once; he had told her not to worry. He would make it somehow.

The words haven't been reassuring enough for her.

At least he was tucked in for the cycle, and it was time for her to go home and rest. All the slaves were fed and locked in the barracks. Jess and Bragan were secured in the store room. Everything was clean and ready for the next work cycle. She sighed, enjoying the fact that she had eight blessed hours to rest and be alone. Her father probably wasn't even out of bed yet.

She made her way through the quiet station. The only signs of life were a few of the younger women who had helped prepare dinner for the slaves. Now they were hard at work on breakfast for the rest of the station. Fortunately, Bethany had managed to scavenge some bread earlier so she wouldn't have to waste precious sleep time waiting for the food to be readied.

She arrived at her father's apartment, amused as always to see the small surveillance camera above the door. It swept slowly back and forth, recording everything in a continuous loop, all cycle every cycle.

It was relatively new; with his elevation to the head of the council he'd become convinced that he needed such security.

Bethany considered him utterly paranoid. Of course, her opinion didn't really count, she thought wryly. Pompous ass.

She placed her hand on the palm plate and the door slid open silently. She crept into the apartment as quietly as she could. She knew from experience that waking him wasn't a very good idea. She moved quickly to the fresher, but to her surprise the door wouldn't open. It seemed to be jammed, and there was a tangy, almost metallic smell in the air. What was going on?

"Is there someone in there?" she asked, keeping her voice low. If he was still asleep she didn't want to risk waking him.

"Bethany, is that you?" Moriah's voice came though the door. For a moment Bethany didn't recognize it; the sound was hoarse and painful.

"Moriah?" she asked. "It's me, Bethany. Open the door. What's wrong?"

The door slid open and Bethany sucked her breath in. Moriah stood shakily in the center of the small room. She was naked, her pale body streaked with blood. Around her neck were fresh bruises and her eyes looked dead.

"Moriah, what happened?" Bethany asked in a shocked whisper.

"I think I killed your father," Moriah said, her voice harsh and painful. Bethany's mouth dropped.

"What do you mean?"

"He was strangling me," Moriah said. Her gaze fixed on a point somewhere over Bethany's shoulder.

"I thought I was going to die. He was drunk and saying crazy things. He was going to kill me," she added.

"I could hardly breathe. My arms were flailing around and then I felt something…"

"What was it?"

"It was the lamp," she said tonelessly. "You know, the one in his bedroom? Made out of plast-crete? I grabbed it and hit him over the head."

"Are you sure he's dead?" Bethany asked, filled with dread. "If you just injured him, he might not remember what happened. We could tell him he had an accident."

"No, I'm pretty sure he's dead," Moriah said, her tone flat. "I didn't stop hitting him until I could see parts of his brain. I splattered them."

Bethany gasped and swayed. She grabbed the door for support.

"I suppose you're going to turn me in now." Moriah said softly. "Will you let me shower first, and get dressed? I don't want them taking me away while I'm still naked."

Bethany nodded her head, stunned.

"Um, yes, you can shower," she said. "But we have to figure out what to do."

"What's there to figure out?"

"How we're going to get rid of the body. And explain his absence. I have to admit, I don't have any ideas right off."

"You aren't going to turn me in?" Moriah asked, voice hollow. The woman was in complete shock.

She didn't have a clue what she was saying.

"No, I'm not," Bethany said. "It's obvious that you did it self-defense. I know what Bose is like. You aren't the first woman he's abused, and he's certainly threatened my life more than once," she added with a bitter laugh.

"There's no way you'd get a fair hearing, though," she continued. "And in all honesty, there's no reason they wouldn't blame me for what happened. With Bose gone I won't even have anyone to live with. I wouldn't be surprised if they punished me instead of you," she mused. "Makes a certain amount of sick sense. If they blame me, they get to punish someone who doesn't have any value to the community.

They won't want to kill you. You can still have children."

"So what do we do?" Moriah asked. "People are going to be looking for him today. There's a body in the bedroom. What should we do?"

"Well, first you need to get cleaned up," Bethany replied. "I need you to go home to your baby. I'll tell everyone that Bose is sick—that will buy us some time. Then we'll think of what to do next. Maybe we can rig some kind of accident?" she muttered, thinking out loud. "If his body's destroyed in it, they won't know when he died. He's been drinking a lot lately, more than usual. They might blame the bakrah for the accident."

"What kind of accident could you rig?" Moriah asked. "How are you going to pull that off?"

"I have no idea," Bethany said grimly. "If you have any suggestions I'd love to hear them."

It took her hours to clean up the bedroom. It was the most horrible, disgusting thing she'd ever had to do in her life. She wrapped his body in some blankets and managed to shove it into one corner, then attacked the blood in the floor and walls. She'd sent Moriah home as soon as she had showered. It wouldn't do either of them any good if she were caught leaving the apartment.

To her surprise, the lamp itself cleaned up easily enough. The plast-crete was strong, far stronger than her father's head had been. She examined her feelings as she cleaned, looking for grief. Her father was dead. It was his blood staining her hands; shouldn't she feel something?

She felt fear. Fear she would be caught, fear that Moriah's child would be left without a mother. She also felt anger. Anger at her father for bringing her to this point. Anger for the drinking, the abuse.

But no matter how deep she looked within herself, she couldn't find any grief. There was a secret exaltation in his death. He would never hurt her again; never hurt any woman.

She was glad he was dead. There was a good chance it would lead to her own end, but she didn't care. Seeing him dead was worth it, and for a brief moment she wished she had been able to do it herself.

The cycle was almost over by the time she finished cleaning. She still didn't know what she would do in the long term. She had no way to explain what had happened to him; no way to dispose of the body.

She took a long shower, washing every trace of blood from her body. Then she scrubbed her clothes out in the sink. Strange, she wasn't very tired. Must be the adrenaline…She was shaky, though. It was going to be a long cycle.

Jess and Bragan had been up for more than an hour by the time they heard Bethany arrive with the first food cart. Both men were tense. Today was the day. Whether they would live as free men or die as slaves would be decided in the next few hours. Logan and Jess had briefed their men the night before.

Everything was ready. Now they sat, chatting anxiously and waiting to be let out for the cycle.

Usually she opened the store room for the cycle as soon as she arrived with the first food cart.

Today she didn't, and Jess looked at Bragan questioningly. Had she somehow guessed what they were going to do? Would they be greeted by guards instead of Bethany that morning?

By the time she came back with the second cart, Jess was getting restless.

"Go and knock on the door," he told Bragan. "Find out why she hasn't let us out. I'll stay here on the pallet looking sick."

Bragan nodded, and made his way over to the door. He knocked, softly at first, and then harder.

"Bethany?" he called out. "Are you there? Are you going to let us out to eat?"

A second later the door opened and Jess smothered a gasp of surprise at the sight of her. She looked horrible…Her face was drawn and white with stress. Her hands shook, and she seemed unable to look directly at either of them.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked without thinking, his voice sounding stronger than it had in weeks. She jumped, startled. Jess cursed silently; she wasn't used to hearing him talk that way.

"My father was sick during the last cycle," she said. She held her hands tightly together, as if to keep them from shaking.

It was obvious that something was very wrong.

"I didn't get much sleep," she continued.

"I see," Bragan said. "What kind of illness is it? Have you called the station medic?"

"No," she said quickly. "I think he had too much bakrah. I don't have time to talk about it right now; I need to get the last cart."

She turned and moved away from them quickly. Bragan and Jess exchanged glances.

"I wonder what's going on?" Bragan asked. "I doubt the station's medic could help, anyway. The man has almost no training. They're fools to trust him with their health."

"What, you haven't volunteered to help them?" Jess asked with dark humor.

"They wouldn't let me touch them," Bragan said with a laugh. "I'm good enough for my fellow slaves, but I guess they consider my techniques unclean or something. Ignorant fools."

"I suppose they get what's coming to them," Jess said.

"Does any woman really deserve to die in childbirth?" Bragan asked, some of the humor fading from his voice. "You asked how I earned my alcohol. Sometimes I do help them. Their fool of a medic has called me several times to try and salvage his mistakes. He usually waits too long, though. I've seen a lot of young Pilgrim girls die since I've come here."

Jess didn't reply; there was nothing he could say. Bragan's pain spoke for itself.

"After tonight you won't have to do that anymore," Jess said finally. "We'll escape or we'll die. Either way it will be over."

"Thank the Goddess for that," Bragan said. "I'm ready for it to be over."

It took every bit of strength Bethany had to keep moving. She had worked only half way through the cycle, but she felt exhausted. The guards had just changed shifts, and she still had no idea how she was going to get rid of her father's body, let alone what she would say about his disappearance. They wouldn't believe he was sick forever… Perhaps she could say he got drunk and decided to take one of the ships out. If she managed to launch one of the smaller transports and set it on a course to impact an asteroid, they would think it was an accident. No body, no questions. He certainly had enough of a drinking history to justify such a foolish thing.

Of course, she had no idea how to launch a transport, let alone program it to collide with an asteroid. She didn't even know that she could get to one. They were usually guarded.

She weighed her options as she worked, ignoring the curious looks Jess shot her way. Finally she realized she only had one choice. She would have to confess to killing her father. Someone was going to pay for his death, and Moriah had a child.

A sense of peace came over her. She was going to die soon, but at least she wouldn't die without a purpose. Moriah was a good girl. She loved her child, and with Bose out of the way she might even be able to make another love match.

Bethany dropped her cleaning rag, stood up in the center of the room and stretched. Jess stared at her from his pallet, obviously confused by her sudden change in demeanor. She laughed out loud, feeling happier and more free than she had in years.

"How are you feeling, Jess?" she asked, walking over to him. She knelt beside him, reaching out to touch his forehead with one hand. He looked so confused by her actions that she just had to laugh again.

Life was so strange…

"Do you think you'll be able to rejoin the men after this cycle?" she asked softly. "I know you thought you'd have a couple more days, but I think time may have run out for you."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean I won't be back," she said. "Not after this cycle. You'll need to rejoin the men or you may end up joining me. And I don't think you want that to happen."

"What's going on?" he asked, sitting up abruptly. She sat back on her heels.

"I thought you might be in better shape than you were pretending," she said, appraising him carefully.

"I didn't want to say anything, because I figured this was as close to a vacation as you'll ever get. I'm not stupid; I know you've been playing games. But I'm glad you're strong enough to go back to work. I don't want to see you killed, Jess."

He looked so startled, so confused, that she couldn't help but laugh again. She would really miss his company, she realized. Caring for him was one small part of her life that was pleasant. She looked forward to seeing him, although she hadn't allowed herself to trust him. Now she didn't have anything to fear.

Without pausing to think about it, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. She could feel his quick inhalation of breath. Then he groaned and his arms were winding around her. He pulled her to one side, rolling her under his body. His hips pressed urgently against her; every part of his body was hard and ready.

She was ready for him, too.

He opened her mouth with his, plunging his tongue into her even as he pinned her body to the pallet.

The floor was hard beneath the thin blankets but she didn't care. So what if she had bruises later? Later she would be dead. This was the last chance she'd ever have to feel a man's touch. And what a man.

She'd ached for him for weeks. He'd ached for her, too. Once she'd realized he wanted her, she had felt that desire in his eyes. He was always watching her, his gaze intense and penetrating. Burning.

Now she would feel his penetration in other ways.

He was moving frantically against her, and she squirmed. She felt wild, like an animal. She wanted to rip off his clothes and take him. She wanted to grunt and sweat and bite him. Who was she? She'd never felt like this before, but she knew in her heart that it was right. Before she died she wanted to feel him everywhere. Especially deep inside.

Jess rucked her skirt up around her waist, tearing at her undergarment with desperate hands. She reveled in the power. This man, this slave she had nursed back to health, wanted her and he was going to take her. She shivered as the cool air hit her heated skin. This was completely different than anything she could have imagined—so urgent, so incredibly intense—as if a fire burned out of control through her body.

This was going to be good.

Acting on instinct, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He groaned.

"Damn, I can't believe this," he muttered. Then he took her lips again.

She twisted against him, seeking something she didn’t even fully understand. Everything was happening so fast. She could smell him, feel his hard muscles under her fingers. She wanted to dig her nails into him, raking them down his back and mark him as hers.

Why not?

With a laugh, she did it. He groaned, then he lifting his hips, reaching down between their bodies. At first she fought him; she didn't want him to stop touching her for even a second. Then his fingers found the spot between her legs and she exploded.

It was like nothing she'd ever felt before in her entire life. One second she was twisting against him, yearning for something she couldn't explain. Everything in her body was tight and tense. Then she shattered, convulsed. He smothered her scream with his mouth the instant it hit her, wrapping himself around her like a shield. At that moment she was completely safe.

She came back to herself to find him kissing her gently. One of his fingers trailed along her cheek, then dropped along the line of her chin. Little tingles followed it and she gave a sleepy smile.

"That was incredible," she said softly. "I've never felt anything like it before."

"We've just started," he whispered. "I have other things to show you."

She closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her again. To her surprise, he lifted himself away, scooting down her body. What was he doing?

A second later she realized. He was kissing her, but this time between her legs. It was amazing. First his lips touched her softly and she shivered as his warm breath brushed across her most sensitive spot.

She'd never dreamed of anything like this, something so wonderful and exciting. Then his tongue touched her clit and she stiffened. It was soft, wet, slick. He probed the folds of her labia, then flicked his tongue back and forth across something that made her want to scream. She bit her lip, trying to stay silent. The tension was building inside her again. She wanted to stay relaxed, to continue basking in the afterglow of her pleasure, but each time his tongue flickered and stabbed, she couldn't help but twitch in response. At first the twitches felt good. Then she grew frustrated. She wanted more than that light, teasing tongue.

He'd pressed her hard before and she needed something hard now, too.

"Please," she whimpered. He gave a low, throaty laugh. She felt the vibration of it through his mouth; it twisted deep down inside her.

He pulled away from her and she whimpered as if in pain. How dare he do this to her? He couldn't stop now. She was so close to…whatever it was, she was very close. It had been so incredible before.

She wanted to feel those incredible explosions again, and she wanted to feel them now.

Still, the weight of his body as he lowered himself back over her was good. She twisted against him, enjoying the rough sensation of her clothing against her nipples. His legs were bare against hers, at least between her thighs. To her shock and delight, she realized he'd lowered his trousers. He was naked down there. He was going to come into her.

She felt the head of his penis against her wet lips. It was wide, larger than her husband's had been.

For a moment she tensed. Avram had hurt her so many times…would this lovely sensation turn painful before it ended? Jess murmured something in her ear. She couldn’t understand what he said, but she understood the tone. It was soft and soothing. He was stretching her now, slowly lowering himself into her body. He might be larger than Avram, but something here was very different. Avram had felt dry and painful as he pushed into her; she was wet and slick for Jess. He was stretching her, yes. But it was a smooth, delicious stretch. She could feel him inching in, and willed her muscles to relax as he penetrated her. With aching slowness he filled her. She shivered, and as she did so, she could feel her stretched muscles tightening around him within her body. He stilled, groaning.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered. "If you only knew how good that feels…"

She tightened her muscles again, reveling in the sensation of power it gave her. He gave a little gasp, his breath coming heavily.

He was all the way inside her now. His body had come to rest, cradled between her legs. He lay still for a moment, then whispered, "Open your eyes."

She did as he asked. There he was, midnight blue eyes gazing into hers. Oh, she liked looking at him. He was mesmerizing, every line of his face perfect. For one excruciating moment she allowed herself to wonder what it might have been like if he had been one of her people. What if their parents had arranged a marriage between them? They could have had this all the time.

She could feel tears welling up at the thought, and then she closed her eyes. She could feel moisture running down her face, little rivers of grief over what might have been. Instead, she was going to die. He would work for a few more months or years in the mine, and he would die too.

They would never see each other again after this cycle. The pain was too great.

She felt something soft and warm against her face. He was kissing the tears away. Slowly, his hips started pumping in and out of her body. Without thinking, she found herself lifting her pelvis in answer to his motions, unconsciously mimicking his movements. That tension was still inside her, and now it leapt to angry life. She wanted this; she wanted him. For the first time in her life, she understood what the restless ache she sometimes felt in her body was supposed to be for.

Mating.

Again and again their bodies met. Thrust after thrust, grinding and coming together with a power that would have seemed violent to anyone watching. But the violence felt good to her. The urgency, the tension. She wanted to pull him down into her womb, to take him prisoner and keep him there. She wanted to own him, mark him, make him hers.

Impossibly, he was moving faster, and that hard part of him, his penis, she thought in satisfaction, was rubbing her in a way that was almost intolerable. She tilted her hips, creating a slightly different angle, and then she exploded for the second time.

Every muscle in her body went tense. Her legs clutched him, making it all but impossible for him to move. She squeezed him so hard he gasped. At first she thought he was in pain, that she'd hurt him. Then he was convulsing over her and she could feel his seed entering her body in hot streams. Again and again he shot into her. It was so satisfying, so amazing. Such a beautiful way to say goodbye to life.

They lay there on the floor, trying to recover for several minutes. Finally she noticed how hard the floor was beneath her. She would have bruises from this, she realized. He had marked her in more ways than one, she thought with a little smile. He kissed her gently on the mouth, then lifted himself just enough to pull her skirts down. His pants were still down around his knees but he didn't seem to care.

He took each of her hands in his, then drew them to his mouth. He kissed her softly, then folded them tenderly together in his right hand. He reached up with his left hand, pushing a few stray locks of hair away from her forehead before dropping it to the blankets beneath her.

"Bethany," he said, his voice a sigh. "That was a wonderful gift. I'm so sorry I have to do this to you."

What? What was he talking about? Before she could even ask, she felt something against her throat.

Something cold, metallic. Sharp.

"Don't move," he said, and cold betrayal filled her. She realized his body was completely covering hers, his right hand imprisoning both of hers with ease. She tried to squirm and felt the bite of the blade against her neck.

"I'm going to tie you up," he said without emotion. “And put you in the storage room. You'll need to stay very quiet. I don't want to hurt you, but if you try and call the guards I'll have to. Do you understand me?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"Escaping," he replied coolly.

"You're crazy," she whispered, searching his face for some sign this was a bizarre joke. "Do you realize there are at least fifty armed men on this station? They can kill you with their control wands, they don't even need their blasters!"

"Not if I kill them first," he said coldly.

"You're going to kill everyone?" she asked, blood chilling.

"No," he said. "Just those who get in my way. Don’t get in my way, Bethany.”

Chapter Six

The look on Bethany's face as he closed the storage room door burned him. She looked so scared, so confused.

He shouldn't have fucked her before betraying her.

But she had been willing and he'd dreamt of doing it for so long. She'd felt even better than his dreams, better than anything he could imagine. Even now, as adrenaline for the revolt was pumping through him, he felt a kind of calm and relaxation that he knew could only be there because he'd had sex with her. She might be carrying his child, he thought with primitive satisfaction. He hadn't had a birth control shot since he'd arrived at the mines. The Pilgrims sure as hell didn’t use them.

Of course, she thought she was barren. At least that’s what she’d told Bragan. But her husband had been old. He'd probably barely been able to get it up. Things would be different for them, Jess thought in satisfaction. If they survived this he wanted to have fifteen children with her, all adorable little girls who would grow into beautiful women like their mother. He shook his head to clear away the fantasy. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

He pulled on a pressure suit, carefully checking the seals, then loped down the tunnel to the mine.

Fortunately, the airlock was well out of sight of the mine-shaft head. That, combined with a thin atmosphere barely capable of transferring sound, would make it easy for him to sneak up on the guards.

At least that was the theory.

Once there, all he had to do was overpower and kill them. Easier said than done, he thought, grinning fiercely inside his helmet. But damned if he wasn't going to try. He waited patiently as the airlock cycled, careful to keep his breathing slow and steady. When the light flickered from red to green, he pressed the button opening the door. He was in the tunnel.

Normally he would turn on his head-lamp at this point, but any light would help them to see him coming. Instead, he stepped out into the pool of light thrown by the airlock and placed his left hand against the tunnel wall. It would guide him to the guards. The airlock door closed behind him and he was alone in the blackness.

There was something about being alone in absolute darkness that made him want to run, to scream.

Perhaps it was instinct, harkening back to the days when his earliest ancestors had prowled through the trees, hunting for food and seeking to hide from predators. The primitive parts of his brain screamed a warning; there was danger ahead. Run.

He forced the thought away. This was no time for fear of the dark. He knew what the tunnel looked like, knew every twist and turn. It didn't matter that the darkness pressed down on him like a living thing.

He couldn’t allow himself to think about what kinds of creatures might dwell in such a place, what monsters would thrive in blackness so intense that a man couldn't see his own hands before his face.

Closing his eyes, Jess forced himself to breath deeply and move forward. First the right leg, then the left. Repeat. He started making progress, and felt a surge of satisfaction when he rounded he first corner.

Only two more turns to go, and then he would be upon them.

By the time he reached the last corner he could see a trace of their light spilling out. It seemed bright to him, and he realized his eyes had so fully adjusted to the blackness that he would be blinded if he wasn't careful. He peeked around the corner, forcing himself to stare directly into the light. His eyes watered, but they adjusted. The two guards were there all right. Sleeping. Sluggo was one of them.

The Goddess must be watching out for him, Jess thought with dark satisfaction. This was going to be easier than he'd dared dream.

Moving steadily and quietly, he came up and stood over Sluggo. He reached out and gently toggled the man's radio to the "off" position, then unlatched his helmet. He woke instantly, and Jess found himself in a deadly, strangely silent struggle. The man gasped for breath, his face turning purple. Jess knew that if he merely held him for several minutes he'd die of asphyxiation, but cutting his throat would be far more humane.

In an instant it was done. Blood poured down the front of the man's suit in a red river. It splashed on Jess, and to his surprise he felt a slight twinge of remorse.

Ruthlessly he pushed the emotion back. This man deserved whatever happened to him.

He dispatched the second guard with ease. It was almost too simple…they were completely unprepared for anything like this. They hadn't even had a chance to try the wand on him. In a way that was unfortunate. Bragan hadn't been able to say with 100 percent certainty that the wands wouldn't somehow activate the remaining filaments still in his spinal cord. He'd find out soon enough, though.

During the course of the revolt a wand was bound to be activated…

Toggling his radio on, he spoke quickly.

"Logan, things are going well in this sector," he said. Hopefully any Pilgrims who might hear them would think they were simply two slaves talking about their work. That was the theory, at least. "I'm ready to move on to the next blast site.”

"I've got that," Logan replied, his voice casual. "I'll see you there in a minute."

"I'll be waiting," Jess replied. He turned to the elevator controls, pressing the button to send the car down to Logan's level. It took two trips to get all the men who had had their implants removed to the shaft head. Bragan came up top, too. He would be in charge of the elevator, allowing the slaves who still had their implants to come to the surface. They would barricade themselves on the mine-side of the airlock until they knew whether the revolt was a success. No one wanted to risk being trapped down in the mine. A quick death from a wand was infinitely preferable.

Jess, Logan, and the first eight men went through the airlock together. They stayed silent as it cycled, unwilling to risk being overheard on their radios. Then the light was turning green and they stepped out into the corridor leading to the slave quarters. As soon as they were out, the door slid shut. It would take two more cycles to bring the others through.

Logan pulled off his helmet, speaking for the first time. There was a wild, almost primitive look in his eyes.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Good so far," Jess replied, wishing he felt as confident as Logan looked. "The guard change was just like normal. Bethany's tied up in the storage room. I haven't tried getting into the blasters' lockers yet, though. Figured we'd do better to try it together, once we have something to open them with."

"Makes sense," Logan grunted. He signaled all but one of the men to follow him, and they took off down the tunnel toward the main complex.

“Remember,” Jess reminded them as they pulled off their helmets. “No radio talk unless the station loses pressure. Keep you helmets attached, ready to pull closed. Anything can happen at this point.”

The men nodded. They’d been over the drill a thousand times already. The locker room was blessedly empty when they arrived. Logan and Jess went over to the Pilgrims' lockers and studied them.

They were made of thick metal imbedded in plast-crete. The locks were forged from heavy steel, but they narrowed at one point.

"I think we could get this open with a blaster," Logan said. Jess nodded.

"If we do this right, we'll be able to get one off the guards outside the tunnel.”

"Go get the girl," Logan said. "It's time.”

Things started to seem a bit surreal to Jess as he walked toward the storage room. He hadn't been entirely sure they'd make it this far. He had left her knowing there was a good chance he might fail at the mine-shaft. He would get to see her again. A feeling of fierce, possessive joy came over him, tempered immediately with fear for her safety. He stopped at the door and turned to the others.

"Remember," he said coldly. "Not matter what happens, she's mine. Any of you touch her, you're dead. Understand?"

The men nodded, although it was small comfort. Jess was less worried about this hand-picked group then he was about the remaining slaves in the mine. There were some rough characters. Life could get ugly for the women of the station if they weren't very careful.

He opened the door slowly. She was still tied and gagged, although her eyes shot hate-filled beams in his direction. He knew without a doubt that if she had a weapon, he'd be dead.

"Calm down and you won't get hurt," he said softly. "I'm going to untie your legs and help you out into the main room. There are some other men out there. Don't do anything stupid."

She continued glaring at him as he freed her legs. He pulled her to her feet and she stumbled. He must have cut the circulation off in her feet.

They hobbled into the main room together, and he felt her body stiffen as she saw the other men.

For the first time he saw them as they appeared to her. Tall, muscular. Their eyes were filled with hate, and their hair was shaggy. Some of the men no longer bothered with such niceties as removing facial hair.

They were terrifying.

"I'm going to pull off your gag," he said quietly. "If you make any noise, they'll kill you. Do you understand?"

She nodded, not taking her eyes off the men before her. He could feel her heart racing, and a part of him wanted to cuddle her close, comfort her. He pushed it down. They needed her fear; it was their ticket out of the mine.

Slowly he pulled off the gag. She spoke, her words hardly more than a whisper.

"Are you crazy?" she asked. “Don't you realize that all they have to do is activate the wand and you'll be dead?"

"That's not your problem," Logan said roughly. He started toward her, and she shrank back against Jess in fear. Logan raised an eyebrow at Jess, who shook his head in warning.

"In a minute you're going to walk through the tunnel to the door with me and Logan," Jess said. “He and I are going to stand to either side of the door. You are going to tell the guards that you need their help inside. Then you're going to get out of the way. Do you understand?"

"What are you going to do to the people on the station?" she asked in a low voice. "You're going to kill them, aren't you?"

"We're only going to kill those we have to kill," Logan replied coolly. "If they give up, we'll spare their lives."

"What about the women?" she asked, voice quavering. "What will happen to them, and the children?"

"We'll try to keep them safe," Jess said.

"And if they get in the way?"

"We'll kill them," Logan said, his voice icy. "Just like we'll kill you if you don't help us. We will take control of this asteroid. What you have to help choose is how we'll take it. If you help us get out quietly, we can disable the men and take control peacefully. If you don't help us, we'll use explosives from the mine to blow the whole place up. Believe me when I tell you I'd rather kill everyone on this Goddess-forsaken hellhole then go back to the mine."

"You're bluffing," she said. "You can't access the blasting clay. You can't break into those lockers."

"Am I?' Logan asked. "Try me."

The two glared at each other for long seconds. Jess kept one arm wrapped around her waist, simultaneously supporting her weight and squeezing her to reinforce Logan’s words. Then she gave in.

"I'll do it," she said. "But I want your word—every man's word—that you'll do this as peacefully as you can."

All the men nodded.

"And I want you to promise no women will be raped."

Jess froze, wishing she hadn’t asked that of him.

"We can't promise that," he said softly. "We can try to control the men, and we plan to isolate the female prisoners. But mistakes happen."

Logan nodded, his face serious.

“Nobody gets raped by mistake,” she hissed. “It’s always deliberate.”

"Preventing something like that from happening is why it's so important we do this in an orderly way," Logan said in a harsh, urgent voice. "I can control these men here. I can't speak for all the men still down at the mine. This will have to be good enough."

She nodded, and a single tear rolled down her face. Jess' gut clenched.

"Let's get on with this," he said, his voice gritty. "We're wasting time."

"You weren't so worried about wasting time before," Bethany muttered. Logan gave Jess a long look, then started toward the tunnel entrance.

"Let's go," he said.

Bethany shivered as she walked slowly up the tunnel between the two men. They were both about the same height, and both had black hair. Logan had the same midnight blue eyes as Jess, too. Perhaps they were brothers? How long had they been planning this? Was Jess’ attraction to her just one more part of the plan?

She knew almost nothing about this man she’d had sex with…

She’d done it because she though she would die. With sudden insight, she realized that this revolt they planned could save her. She could blame her father's death on the slaves. Relief swept over her, only to be followed by self-disgust. How could she consider betraying her people just to save her own pathetic life? Granted, she didn't feel much kinship with most of the people on the station. But the women were nice, at least some of them. Moriah, for one. And the children. They were innocent of any wrong-doing. Her gut twisted as she realized that Moriah and her baby could very well end up dead before this was over.

She had to do something to stop that from happening. She had to get away and warn the others.

She had to find a way to save Moriah…

They reached the end of the tunnel and she took a deep breath.

"Don't make a mistake," Jess said, his tone deadly. She nodded her head quickly, not needing to feign fear. Jess hardly seemed like the same man who had been so tender with her earlier.

She raised one trembling hand and knocked on the door.

"Guards, I need you," she said, her voice quavering. There was no answer at first.

Jess and Logan looked at her with questions in their eyes. She shrugged.

"Sometimes they don't stay by the door," she whispered. "I think they get bored."

"Try again," Jess said, his tone harsh. "Louder this time."

She did as she was told, calling out the same message. This time one of the men replied.

"What do you need?"

It was her moment, and at that second she knew what she had to do.

“Get help! The-" She was abruptly cut off by Jess’ hand coming down across her mouth so hard she bit her lips. Instantly she could taste salty fluid that had to be her own blood. Logan looked at her with hatred in his eyes.

“Bitch,” he hissed.

“What was that?” the guard called. “I couldn’t hear you. Just a minute.”

There was some muttering, and then they could hear the bolt sliding through on the other side. Logan poised to move while Jess pushed her roughly behind his body. She drew breath to scream, but it was too late.

The door swung inward. In a flash, Jess slammed it back, hitting the guard in the head. The man dropped like a stone. Logan jumped through the doorway looking for his companion. There was no one there. Jess followed him quickly, ready to move.

"Where the hell is the other guy?" Jess whispered harshly. Bethany stepped through the door hesitantly, following Jess. He and Logan were looking up and down the corridor, but neither of them seemed to notice the small alcove that held the table where the guards usually sat. There was a bottle of bakrah, and some kind of board game set up. And a blaster.

Moving quickly and silently, she crept toward the table, hoping desperately she could stop this revolt here and now. Someone tackled her from behind; she went down, hard. A man's heavy body hit her, and suddenly she couldn't breathe.

"Stop pulling crap like this or I won’t be able to guarantee your safety," Jess whispered in her ear. "I don’t want you to get hurt, but I’m the only one who feels that way right now. Shut up and do as I say if you want to live."

She gasped, trying to catch her breath. He couldn't guarantee her safety no matter what, she though darkly. He couldn't guarantee anyone's safety.

"I've got the blaster," Logan said quietly. "We need to get her out of the way, and get rid of that guard, too. His friend could come back at any minute."

"You get the guard," Jess said grimly, his voice a rumble against her back. She had to get away from him, she thought desperately. She forced herself to go limp, not fighting as he pulled her to her feet. She raised one hand to her head, wobbling. He'd fooled her about his physical condition for ten cycles. Time for him to learn what it felt like to be the fool.

Watching out of the corner of her eye, she waited until Logan was dragging the guard's body through the door to strike. She raised her knee with all the force in her body, slamming it into Jess'

crotch. He dropped to the floor and she was off. She was around the corner before either man realized what happened. They'd come after her, of course, but they had a serious disadvantage. She knew her way around the station, had played in these corridors as a child. There were a thousand hiding places.

No way they'd be able to catch her now.

Behind her she heard a startled cry; the other guard must have returned. There was the sound of blaster fire and the smell of burning plastic. Everything was suddenly far more real than it had been just seconds earlier. If she didn't warn them, every woman on the station could end up raped, even dead. She didn't even like thinking what might happen to the children.

Then she heard footsteps behind her. Someone was following her, running hard. It had to be Jess.

She ducked around another corner, desperately pushing into a small store room. If she remembered correctly, there was an air vent at the back. As a child, she and her friends had crawled through it.

Would she be too big to fit through now? If he found her, he'd probably kill her.

She scrabbled frantically through piles of debris. Old blast casings, torn pressure suits, parts for mining tools. There it was, the grating that covered the vent. She felt the corners for the fasteners and found them gone.

The children must still play here, she thought with satisfaction.

Pulling off the grate, she started crawling into it, feet first. It seemed like she would fit, although her skirts would make it tight. Why hadn't she thought of that? She started to pull her legs back out to take off the bulky clothing, but then she heard someone out in the corridor. He could find her any minute. She slithered into the vent as quickly as she could; when she was all the way in, she reached out and pulled one of the pressure suits across the open space she'd cleared. She pulled the vent casing into place behind her and started scooting backwards. There should be a wider vent about ten meters back. Once she was there, she would be able to turn around and crawl more easily.

Time to go and warn her people.

Jess cursed, opening door after door along the corridor trying to find her. She'd simply disappeared, and now he was wasting valuable time looking for her. They had hoped to take on the Pilgrims slowly and steadily as they slept.

That wasn't going to be an option now. More people would have to die. It was only a matter of time before she brought help, and all they had to show for their efforts so far were two blasters.

Disgusted, he jogged back to the main entrance of the mining complex. Two slaves stood over the dead guard's body. When the second Pilgrim had come wandering back up to the corridor, he’d seen Logan, and raised his blaster to fire. Logan had reacted instantly, shooting the blaster like a seasoned soldier. In those seconds, Jess had realized how little he really knew about the man. They had never discussed their backgrounds or their families. He didn't even know what Logan had done before he'd become a slave. After seeing him attack the guard, Jess had a few suspicions.

He jogged past the men guarding the door, moving quickly down the corridor to the main room outside the barracks. Logan and the others already had one of the lockers open. He was handing out small cubes of explosives, while another man—Kresn—was showing them how to use the detonators.

"Remember," Kresn said. "You blow this in the wrong place and the dome looses pressure. We don't want that to happen, but keep your helmets ready. If something goes wrong you’ll only have a few seconds to pull them on."

"Why don't we just blow the dome and kill 'em all?" another man muttered, his voice harsh.

"Because we're better than them," Logan said, staring at him with cold eyes. "We don't want to kill the women and children if we don't have to. Those children are completely innocent."

"Not only that," Kresn added, his voice filled with dark humor. "I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to getting my hands on some of those women. It's been a long time since I've had myself a piece of tail."

"No rapes," Jess said. The men all turned to look at him. "If I catch any man raping a woman, I'll kill him. Do you understand?"

"The same goes for me," Logan added. "We are better than them—remember that. It’s the only thing keeping us human. Their women are hardly more than slaves as it is. They're victims, too, and I want them to be treated well, or you'll answer to me and Jess."

"Oh, I understand,” Kresn said, his voice light. "But I have a feeling some of those Pilgrim women might enjoy the chance to take up with a new kind of man. This could be as much of an escape for them as it is for us."

"We can talk about that later," Jess said. "We need to get moving now. Bethany got away, and Goddess knows how long we've got before she finds help. Remember the plan. Now let's move."

The men stowed the small blocks of explosive in their pockets and clipped their helmets to the backs of their suits. Then the group started jogging out the tunnel into the main station. Logan and Jess took the point positions, covering each other with the blasters as they made their way into unfamiliar territory. Fortunately, the corridors were clearly marked with color-coded strips.

The Pilgrims were even stupider than they’d thought.

Bethany crawled along the ventilation shaft as quickly as she could. She must be almost out of the mining complex by now. It was just one of four domes making up the settlement. They were connected by four intersecting tunnels, with ventilation shafts running above each. It seemed like every movement she made was noisy; how could they not hear her in the tunnel below? She could hear them; they'd run beneath her just seconds earlier.

After what seemed like an eternity of crawling through the darkness, she felt a change in the vent's surface. Where it had been smooth plast-crete before, there appeared to be a slot. She had reached one of the recessed shields that would snap closed if a dome lost pressure. That meant she was almost to the junction where her vent would meet up with vents from the other domes.

She slowed, feeling her way carefully. The vents got confusing at this point. She had to find just the right one. If she remembered correctly, it was the one on the right, and she would have to boost herself up several feet to climb into it. There it was. She climbed up into the new tunnel, moving quickly over another of the blast shields. They always frightened her; as a child she'd been warned that if a human was standing in the way when a dome lost pressure, the powerful shields could cut them in half. She'd had nightmares about it for years.

She moved safely past the shield and then came to another junction. She tried to remember the fastest way out to the kitchen. It was the closest place she could think of that would have communication equipment. Everyone would be asleep and she had no idea how to trigger a general alarm. But she knew if she called one of the elders, he would know what to do.

Unfortunately, making her way to the kitchen wasn't as easy as she remembered. The shaft narrowed as she crawled, and finally she could go no further. All but crying in frustration, she realized that while she had been able to pass this way easily as a child, she was simply too large now. She would have to go back. She backed up carefully, trying to remember what her other options might be. An instant later she felt her skirt catch on something, and her leg was pinned. She couldn't see anything, and the shaft was far too tight for her to reach down and free it.

Shit.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down and think for a minute. She had to get free and she had to get out of there quickly. She moved one leg experimentally, and felt the fabric pulling against whatever had it hooked. If it was rough, she might be able to saw through the fabric and free herself.

Bethany moved her leg slowly back and forth, rubbing the fabric against whatever had caught it.

Then she pulled, testing to see if anything would happen. She felt a small piece of it tear. She twisted her leg a bit and managed to hook one foot in the hem of her dress. She pulled down, slowly and steadily, and was rewarded with a ripping sound. She was free.

She started scooting backward again, taking care to avoid the rough spot that had caught her in the first place. Then she was past it. She had no idea how long it had been since she'd made her escape.

They could already be in the main station, and she had no idea where to go next.

She'd have to risk coming out in the first room she could find that had a vent large enough for an adult to crawl through, and take things from there.

It took her several tries to find a way out; she was hopelessly confused by now. As a child she had never gone through these shafts alone, and certainly never without a light. Finally she found what looked like it might be a way out. She could see a faint light at the end of one of the shafts. It looked large enough for her to pass through, so she went for it.

She moved as quickly as she could, but it still took several minutes to reach the vent. By the end, she was scooting along on her belly, moving mere inches at a time. When she reached the vent, she peered out of the grill to find that she'd stumbled across someone's fresher. The light was a small one to help the occupants find their way in the dark.

Some family was going to get a big surprise, she thought grimly.

She had pushed open the vent and was halfway through before she realized she had another problem, a big one. This vent was nearly six feet from the floor, and all she had to break her fall were her own hands.

"Hello?" she called, trying to maintain her balance as she hung halfway out the opening. "Is anyone here? I need help."

She called several times, but there was no response. Suddenly an explosion rocked through the dome, knocking her out of the vent. Instantly the air was filled with sirens and she heard someone in the apartment scream. Even with the noise around her, the crash she made as she landed was loud enough to catch the attention of the apartment's occupants. The door swung open, and a man dressed only in his drawers brandished a blaster at her.

"Don't move," he said, his voice harsh. A woman peeked around behind him, one hand held to her mouth.

"The slaves," Bethany gasped out. "The slaves are escaping. I got away from them. You have to do something."

Another blast rocked the building and the lights flickered out. Then they came back on as the emergency power supply kicked in.

"It's Bethany, Dom," the woman said, plucking at the man's arm. He slowly lowered the blaster, giving her a suspicious glare. Then he turned to his wife, running his fingers through his hair nervously.

"I need to join the men," he said. "If the slaves are escaping they'll need me. Marta, you get dressed and get ready to defend the children. And you," he said, turning to Bethany. "You get to you father's apartment. Once we get this taken care of, the elders will want to talk to you."

Bethany nodded, and stood up rather shakily. Marta led her quickly through their rooms to the door, her daughter clinging to her mother's side.

"Be careful," she whispered. "I don't know what's going on out there, but the men will be quick to shoot."

"I will," Bethany said, trying to smile at her. Another blast rocked the station; both women winced.

Marta was one of the younger women who worked in the kitchen. She had often slipped a roll with some meat in it to Bethany when the older women weren't watching. Visions of what her dead body might look like rolled through Bethany's mind and she quickly turned away. She couldn't think about that right now.

Marta unlatched the door and Bethany slipped out into the hallway. She had done her best to sound a warning. Now she needed to get home, where father's body was still wrapped in a sheet in his bedroom. The traitorous thought she'd had earlier crept back into her thoughts—if the revolt succeeded, the slaves might not be the only ones to escape the hellhole that was Bethesda Station.

Chapter Seven

The escaping slaves worked their way through the dome that housed the mining complex as quickly as they could. They kept expecting to hear alarms. There was only silence. Jess murmured a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for that; something had happened to slow Bethany down. Briefly he wondered if she was all right, and a pang went through him.

He pushed it out of his mind.

People would die on both sides before this was over. If she had stayed with him, she'd be perfectly safe right now. He had planned to leave her locked in the slave barracks; eventually all the prisoners would end up there. If she got caught in the middle of the fighting at this point, that was beyond his control.

They had decided to stick with their original plan for now. They were betting that the mining station had been built using standard, pre-fabricated domes set in a pinwheel formation. It was the most likely set up; the main question was how many domes there were and how many people lived on the station.

He'd probed Bethany for information as much as he could. They calculated the station had a population of about 170. About fifty were men. The slaves were outnumbered, but they had the element of surprise on their side, at least for the moment. They also had decent firepower. The Pilgrims had rather foolishly located their arsenal right outside the slave complex. Logan had actually burst out laughing when he'd found it, amazed by their short-sighted stupidity.

In record time they made their way through the mining complex and reached an area that could only be the central hub of the pinwheel. Jess noted with satisfaction that there were four portals leading into the hub, each of which had a large shield capable of cutting off the corridors if there were an emergency.

The mining dome was already theirs. If they could close the doors, they would be able to pick off the inhabitants of the other domes at their leisure. One of the domes appeared to be a greenhouse; the second public rooms and the kitchen. The third housed the apartments, and would be their primary target. Jess marveled at the foolish arrogance the Pilgrims showed yet again. Everything was clearly labeled. It had simply never occurred to them that they might have a security risk in their slave compound. They'd made moving through the station laughably easy for the escapees.

The men split into their pre-assigned teams and prepared themselves to storm the apartment block.

A small group of four men would remain behind, ready to close the blast doors if needed. There probably wasn't anyone in the other domes right now anyway, but they didn't want to take any chances.

Logan gave the signal, and they started their assault.

Jess and his men split off from Logan almost immediately, moving to the right side of the dome.

Moving silently, they forced open the first apartment door. Two of the men slipped in, prepared to capture or kill the inhabitants. Jess waved the rest of the men on; there were more apartments to enter.

Everything was going off without a hitch. No alarms. What had happened to Bethany? Had she changed her mind about alerting the station? Maybe she hadn't even found her way out of the mining dome, he realized. He was surprised how much relief the thought gave him; he wanted her to live with emotion bordering on desperation.

He and his men had just reached the fourth apartment when a blast rocked the station. Alarms shrieked to life around them.

"Get back to the central chamber and see if they need help," he yelled to two of his team members.

"We'll keep moving through the apartments. If you get the blast shields closed we'll be able to take them out one dome at a time."

He grunted as he pushed his way into the next apartment. There was a man stumbling out of his room. Without thinking Jess shot him, and a little girl screamed. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the wave of horror that washed through him. Grimly, he pointed the blaster at the child and her mother, directing them out into the hallway. There was already a small group of women and children huddling there against the wall; one of his men watched over them grimly. Would he be able to keep them safe? He turned to look down the hallway, assessing their next move.

He heard a scuffle, then the little girl ran by him. He jumped after her, missing the fabric of her nightshirt by inches. She darted around the corner and was gone. Already Jess could hear blaster fire breaking out in the distance. What if the Pilgrims managed to get organized and mounted an assault on their position? He and his fellow slaves were hopelessly outnumbered, but they did have one thing on their side, he thought. They were desperate. They weren't going back to slavery, even if it meant blowing apart the entire station.

Somehow the thought was small comfort in the face of a child running for her life…

Smoke billowed through the corridor as Bethany ran toward her apartment. Immediately the air scrubbers kicked into action, adding a high-pitched whine to the noise around her. Men were spilling out of their apartments, some pulling their pants on as they ran. Each and every one of their faces held an expression of grim purpose. They were preparing to fight for their lives.

She turned the corner to her father's apartment at a run, and flung herself against the door. It slid open. She stepped in and locked it behind her.

Now what?

Before she had time to think, someone was pounding on the door. She looked at the small monitor next to it, the one connected to the security camera, to see who it was. Amador, captain of the station's guards. She opened the door.

"Where is your father?" he asked, his voice tight.

Without thinking, she replied, "He's dead."

The words startled her; she should have lied. Now she would be caught. The thought was cut off as another explosion rocked the station.

Amadar cursed, running a hand through his hair.

"I didn't realize they'd gotten this far in yet," he said. "What happened?"

She looked at him, startled. Then it fell into place. Naturally, he assumed Bose had been killed by the slaves. Relief washed through her and a detached part of her mind noted that her entire body seemed to be trembling.

"I don't know," she said quickly. "I escaped the mining compound and came to warn everyone. By the time I got here he was already dead. They killed him in his bed," she added for good measure, trying to inject a sense of outrage into her voice.

"It's horrible," she added in a strained whisper.

Amadar looked at her sharply, then turned as another man called his name.

"Lock your door and stay hidden," he said quickly. "We're going to fight them. Be prepared to defend yourself."

He turned and ran down the hall. She closed the door behind him and leaned heavily against the wall. Suddenly her strength gave out, and she felt herself sliding to the floor.

It was too much. Tears welled up in her eyes, but before she could give in to hysterics there was more frantic beating on the door. She looked to the monitor, but didn't see anyone. The camera was sweeping across the hallway, and to her disgust she realized she must have activated a "search"

sequence. Some good the damn thing would do her now.

"Who is it?" she asked anxiously.

"Let me in!" a little girl's voice called. Bethany jumped up and opened the door, pulling in a child who could be no more than six or seven years old. She was a wearing a nightgown. Her brown braids had come loose, and her cheek was streaked with black soot. Bethany took one look at her and picked her up, hugging her fiercely.

"It's okay, I'll take care of you," she whispered into the little girl's ear. The child's body shook as she burst into tears. Bethany searched her memory, trying to remember the girl's name. Was it Sara? Dara?

Before she could ask there was more pounding on the door.

"It's me, Moriah!"

She set the girl down and opened the door a third time. The younger woman stumbled in, baby clutched in her arms.

"It's horrible out there," she said, voice high-pitched with fear. "I don't know what's happening.

They're fighting in the hallways, and someone came to my door and told me to run while I still could. I think that our men are losing control of the dome."

"The slaves are escaping," Bethany said quietly. "I tried to warn the elders, but I couldn't get here fast enough. Do you have any idea how many people have died? Are they hurting the children?"

"I have no idea. We've got to find a place to hide," Moriah said. "They were coming this way.

Where can we go?"

"I tried crawling through the air ducts earlier," Bethany said tightly. "But that won't work now. The air scrubbers are on. If we go up there now we might smother."

"There's no way in or out of the apartment except the front door, is there?"

"No," Bethany said slowly. "I think we're trapped here."

"Let's barricade ourselves in your bedroom," Moriah said in desperation. "They'll come looking for your father. Maybe they won't look there."

She and Bethany exchanged a long look, and Bethany smiled gently. They both knew her bedroom wouldn't be safe. There weren't any safe places left to hide.

"All right," Bethany said finally. She turned to the child, suddenly remembering her name. Zara. It was Zara.

"Zara, we're going to go back here now," she said, reaching out a hand. The girl took it slowly, and together they walked toward the back room. All they could do now was wait.

They sat in the back room, huddled, for what seemed like hours. Explosions continued to rock the station. Zara cried and moaned while the baby grew fussy. Moriah tried nursing her, but she was too afraid to eat. Bethany held Zara tightly, and watched her small clock.

Less than ten minutes had passed since they'd gone into the back room together, but those minutes had lasted a lifetime.

They started hearing noises out in their own hallway. Bethany and Moriah looked at each other, and finally Bethany spoke.

"I have to know what's going on," she whispered. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Don't," Moriah said. "It's too dangerous."

"It's dangerous no matter what we do," Bethany replied grimly.

She stood and walked shakily out into the main living room. The noises outside were growing louder. She could hear men calling to each other, and the sounds of blasters firing. The worst of the fighting seemed to be right outside the apartment.

She walked up to the door and looked at the small screen next to it. Now she could see into the hallway through her father's ridiculous security camera. Jess was standing directly outside the apartment door, face twisted with rage and triumph. His pressure suit hung in tatters around him. His arms, strong and roped with muscle, held a blaster pointed at the locking mechanism. Terrified, Bethany ran toward the back of the apartment; they would be inside any minute. She had no idea what would happen to them. Jess had told her the women wouldn't be hurt but she didn't believe him. She had seen the bloodlust in his eyes.

She and Moriah pushed into the closet, pulling an old blanket over themselves and the children.

Would the slaves realize they had found her father's apartment? Of course, she thought in disgust. The door was clearly labeled. Everything was labeled, she realized, shaking her head. How much easier had the Pilgrims made it for the slaves?

Yet another explosion rocked the apartment, and then they could hear the men's triumphant cries as they came inside. Jess' voice sounded above the others, giving an order.

"I want Bose," he said. "And I want him alive."

The men hooted in response, their voices sounding triumphant.

"Good news, Jess," one of them called. "Logan just radioed a message. The second dome is fully under our control. The men over there have surrendered; they're locking them up right now."

"Jess, get in here," another man called. "Bose is dead. Looks like someone did him in a while ago, a day at least"

"What?"

Bethany shivered in the closet, pulling Zara closer to her body.

"Stay quiet," she whispered to the child. Zara nodded.

Then the baby sneezed, and all hell broke loose.

Chapter Eight

Jess stood over Bose's body, his moment of triumph feeling empty. The bastard was already dead.

Someone had gotten to him first.

A baby sneezed.

"There's someone in the other room," he said, voice tight. Two of the men nodded, and went into the smaller room in back. They had already cleared out nearly 20 apartments; they had come to realized just how important it was to keep each other covered.

And instant later one of the men gave a startled yelp. Jess brought his blaster up, ready to fire. A small child streaked through the room, hair flying behind her, teeth grimly clenched. Jess gasped; he'd almost shot her. Just one more close call. One of the men took off after her.

"Zara!" a woman's voice called. Bethany's voice. The child was forgotten; Bethany was in there.

Hiding from him. He could feel a fierce grin spreading across his face, blood surged through his body to his groin.

The station was all but theirs; now she would be, too.

He stalked into the room to find two women huddled in the closet. One of them clutched a baby.

The other one was Bethany.

He nodded at Kresn.

"Take her and the kid out to the other prisoners," he said in a grim voice, pointing to the other woman. "I'll take care of this one."

Kresn gave him a knowing look.

"Remember, we aren't finished yet," he murmured.

"I know," Jess said. "I'll just be a minute."

Kresn reached down and pulled the other woman to her feet. He wrapped one hand around her upper arm, but she shook it off.

"I'll go with you," she said, her voice dignified and quiet. Kresn quirked an eyebrow and bowed to her mockingly.

"Of course," he said.

She stiffened, but didn't reply. Together they left the room.

Jess was left alone with Bethany. She was dirty. Her hair had come loose from its braids, flowing down her back in a river of brown waves. He'd dreamt of touching that hair, wrapping it around his fingers a thousand times; now she was his. He'd kill any man who tried to take her away from him, and he'd be damned if he'd tolerate her running away from him again.

"Get up," he said. She stood, eyes darting around the room. Looking for escape? He laughed at her mockingly.

"You aren't getting away this time," he said. "The station is ours. Your father is dead. How did that happen, by the way? I was looking forward to doing it myself…"

She shivered, then lifted her chin defiantly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "You must be mistaken."

"Is that why you were so friendly earlier?" he asked coolly. "You killed him, didn't you? You thought you were going to die. That's why you fucked me."

She refused to meet his gaze and he laughed. Without warning, she leapt for the door. He blocked her, wrenching a hand into her hair and pulling hard as she tried to knee him.

"Oh, no," he whispered. "We're not going to go through that again."

He wound his fist tightly into her hair and pulled her through the apartment. As much as he was enjoying his moment of triumph, there was more work to be done. By his estimates, there were probably at least ten Pilgrim men unaccounted for in this dome. His hand clenched her hair tighter. She yelped in pain once, but any sympathy for her evaporated when he thought about the way she'd run from him earlier.

She had endangered herself recklessly; it was unforgivable. She belonged to him now and he wouldn't tolerate losing her again. She would have to learn to behave from now on, to do as he told her.

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 fuck 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."

How the hell had he gotten rid of his, she wondered? They must have removed it in the mine. She thought of all those pain pills she'd smuggled in to him and gasped.

"You used those drugs for your friends, to remove the implants."

"Of course I did," he said reasonably. "I was lucky enough to be unconscious when Bragan operated on me. They needed something for the pain. Every single one of those men had to go back to work after Bragan finished with them."

They passed out of the slave quarters as he spoke, then they were in the warren of storage rooms that made up the rest of the mining complex. Jess pulled her along, without speaking, down first one hall and then another. Finally he stopped in front of a room and opened the door.

"This is my room for now," he said. "You'll be staying here. I've installed a lock inside as well as outside. Nobody will be able to get in unless you let them."

"Aren't you worried that I'll lock you out?" she asked.

"You'll get hungry eventually," he replied lightly. He looked happier than she'd ever seen him, she thought wistfully, and even more handsome than before.

He pulled her into the room and the door slid shut behind them. She looked around, noting that he had stacked the room's contents—boxes of some kind of mechanical equipment—against one wall.

Along the other was a pallet made of several blankets layered together.

"Why have you brought me here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. He gave a bark of laughter.

"Don't be naive," he said. "You're mine now. I've claimed you, and every man left on this asteroid knows it."

"So, you're going to rape me?"

Jess looked at her steadily.

"I'm not going to do anything you don't agree to," he said. "But I don't think you're going to fight me, not if you're honest with yourself. When you thought you were going to die—when there weren't any consequences to your actions—you wanted to be with me. What's different now?"

"You used me to betray my people," she whispered. He laughed again, shaking his head.

" Your people?" he asked. "Sounds to me like your people would have executed you just as soon as they found your father. They were going to kill you if I couldn’t go back to work, right? Excuse me if I'm off here, but can you explain exactly what about their treatment of you makes them your people?"

"What about the other women?" she asked, unwilling to acknowledge he was right. "The women aren't guilty…at least not all of them. What's going to happen to them?"

"Logan's working on that," he said. "We decided it would be hypocritical for me to tell the men they couldn't have them if I was taking you. But we're not animals, you know. We're not Pilgrims. I don't think any of us believes in slavery as an institution," he added mockingly. "We're a little too familiar with it. Logan wanted me to leave you alone, but I will never do that. I've known you were mine from the first moment I saw you. I'll be damned if I let anyone stand between us."

She closed her eyes, wondering what to say next. He seemed so different from the man she had come to know in the slave quarters. There he had been weak, polite. He was much larger standing up; she hadn't realized how tall he was. He towered over her by at least a foot.

He was massive, too. She'd seen his body, touched those muscles on his shoulders and thighs. But she'd had no idea what he could do with them. His arms were strong, roped with muscle. He'd used them to kill men. Men who would have killed her, she realized. Men who had killed slaves without thinking twice.

Their blood stained his clothing…

He closed in on her, pulling her into his arms.

"I've waited for this forever," he said, kissing the side of her neck softly. "Do you have any idea what kind of hell I've been through? Now I'm a free man, with a woman of my own. I can't tell you how much this means to me, Bethany. Just being alone here with you seemed like an impossible dream. Now we can build a life together."

She tried to ignore him, focus on the things he had done. He was violent man, a controlling man who was taking away her freedom.

But none of that mattered as he touched her.

His hands clutched her shoulders, then ran up and down her arms. He seemed to be reassuring himself she was real, that this was really happening.

He kissed her neck again, then nibbled his way to her lips. She expected an assault, a follow- up to the brutal kisses he'd given her outside her father's apartment. But he was so soft, so gentle. His lips nipped at hers, coaxing them to respond to his touch. She shivered, and he reached his arms around her.

Her body brushed against his lightly. The tips of her breasts touched his chest, and the bulge of his swelling cock grazed her stomach.

She remembered what that monster felt like inside her body. So good…

Against her will she responded, opening her lips just a bit. She could taste him now. Salty with sweat. He smelled sweaty, too. Normally she would have found it distasteful, but there was something so masculine about his smell. Something raw and new.

She wanted to taste him. Bethany opened her lips further and her tongue darted out. He stilled, then pulled her forcefully against his body. Now he was giving her the kiss she expected; the ravaging follow-up to his earlier touch. He was hungry for her, he wanted her, and he was going to take her. She could feel it in the tension of his arms, the thrust of his cock against her soft belly. She shivered, moaning deep within her throat. It was a moan of need and fear combined, a moan of submission. In her heart she knew he was right; she did belong to him. A thrill ran through her as she realized he belonged to her, too.

He groaned in return, every pore of his body oozing masculine triumph. The captor was about to take his spoils.

Then he pulled away from her, and put his hands on her shoulders.

"I've been thinking about this for along time," he said softly. His dark blue eyes burned, like those of a being possessed by some dark force. Slowly he started pressing down against her shoulders. She whimpered as she realized what he intended.

"On your knees," he whispered. "I want you to start on your knees. I've thought about your lips every moment, dreamt of having them on me every night. I've already pleasured you with my mouth. Will you do the same for me?"

She shivered, remembering how it had felt when he'd kissed her between her legs. It had been hot and pulsing, pleasure and pain more exquisite than anything she'd ever imagined. She understood all too well why he wanted her to do the same to him.

Without speaking, she dropped to her knees before him. He leaned back against the door, both hands pressed flat against it. She looked up at him and his eyes burned through her, feverish in his need.

Then she turned her attention to the bulge straining his pants.

Raising one finger, she traced the length of it through the cloth. It was so strong and warm, it leapt under her touch, a creature with a mind all its own.

She could feel its shape. There was the shaft, straight and true. It stretched upward toward his belly, narrowing just a bit before her fingers reached the flare at the end. The head was broad and rounded. It had seemed too big as it pressed into her body earlier and it seemed even bigger now. How had she managed to take it into her womb? And how would she manage to take it into her mouth?

She remembered performing this same act on her aging husband with a shudder of disgust, but this was different. As much as she wanted to tell herself that she didn't want to touch him, that he was forcing her to do this, she couldn't. She wondered, with every fiber of her being, what he tasted like. She could smell him, musky and masculine, and she wanted more. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

She reached for the fastening of his pants, slowly pulling them open. He wasn't wearing anything beneath; with a start she realized he probably didn't own anything else. Even his pants were the same ones she had cut off him, then stitched back together while he lay ill. She pulled the pants down a bit and all thoughts of his clothing disappeared. There it was, his cock. It stood proud and large, waiting for her touch. He grunted, catching her attention.

"Keep moving," he said softly. She nodded.

She peeled back his trousers and pulled them down his legs a bit. Now she could see all of him. His long, hard cock. His balls, hanging just below in their sack. Already they pulled up, tight and tense.

Despite the limitations of her experience, she knew he wasn't going to last that long once she touched him. What would he taste like, coming in her mouth?

Once again she traced his length with her hand, but this time there was no fabric between them. He was soft, and oh-so-warm to the touch. She followed the vein along the underside, first trailing one finger up it and then reaching out with the tip of her tongue. She traveled up the shaft slowly, exploring every bump and wrinkle with her tongue. Then she reached the top. There was a little dip in the skin there, a spot where the ridge of his cock-head came together. She tickled it with her tongue and he gasped.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, and touched her tongue to that spot again. He gazed back at her, eyes bright as deep blue coals; he dropped his head back against the door and moaned.

"Take it into you mouth," he whispered, as in pain. "Take it into your mouth and suck it. I need you to touch me there."

She did as she was told, opening her mouth and slowly sucking the head of his cock. He tasted hot and salty. Sweet. She could feel a rush of moisture building between her thighs—oh, she wanted him.

One of his hands came up to grasp the back of her head firmly, pushing her down onto his length.

He wanted more from her.

She sucked him in further, careful to keep her teeth from grazing against him. She wasn't able to get him in all the way, and when he hit the back of her throat, she choked. Instantly his hand stopped pushing.

"You don't have to take more of me than you can handle," he whispered painfully. "Just take what you can…" His words broke as he moaned in pleasure.

She nodded, bobbing up and down on him as she did so. He gasped, and she realized just how much power this new position gave her.

He was hers now.

Moving slowly, she pulled up on the cock with one hand, mimicking the sucking motions of her mouth. Then she pushed back down. She repeated the movement, going more quickly this time. His hand clenched in her hair, and she did it again. Soon she was in a rhythm that seemed to be working for both of them. She could feel him growing harder in her mouth. More moisture leaked from him as well.

Without thinking, she wrapped both arms around his hips and grasped the cheeks of his butt firmly in her fingers. She needed some leverage if she was going to do this right.

Her head moved back and forth, quicker and quicker. Each stroke brought him just a little closer to exploding. She could feel it in the way his muscles tensed, taste it in the seed he was already starting to leak into her mouth. His hand clenched her hair more tightly, the slight pain spurring her on.

Her mouth was starting to ache and her neck was growing tired. It should have been terribly uncomfortable for her to keep her pace, but it was as if she were no longer in charge of her own body.

There was an ache building between her legs and in her breasts. She wanted his hands on them, to feel his rough fingers play with her nipples.

She wanted that hard cock inside her.

He gasped, all but whimpering with need. His hips started thrusting against her head, moving her faster and faster toward the explosion of his seed. He muttered something low under his breath, then both his hands were on her head, pulling her face into his cock with such force it should have been painful. All she could think about was how much she wanted him to thrust against her in another place. If he was too spent from this to fuck her afterward, she was going to die.

His cock was knocking at the back of her throat with each thrust now. She tried to time herself with it, and suddenly she was swallowing it, pulling him deep within her throat. He gasped and pulled her head more tightly against him. She swallowed again, feeling her throat muscles tighten around him. She couldn't breath. Acting on instinct, she swallowed again and this time kept swallowing, massaging him with her muscles even as she started seeing spots from lack of oxygen. He gave a startled cry, and then he exploded into her. She could feel the hot spurts of come slither down her throat and felt light-headed. His fingers clutched her head so hard it hurt, and then he was slowly pulling out of her mouth.

She felt sore, almost raw. And so empty…

He slowly sank to the floor and pulled her close to his body. He was kissing her eyes, her nose, her mouth. He murmured soft words and rubbed the back of her head as she collapsed against his chest, gasping for air.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "So sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, Beth. Oh, Bethie, I'm so sorry…"

It took her a moment to realize what he was saying.

"You didn't hurt me," she whispered, voice sounding raw even to her. "I startled myself there, but you didn't hurt me."

"You must be exhausted," he whispered, still cradling her. She nodded her head, realizing he was right. She was exhausted. But she was also far too restless and awake to sleep. The heaviness that had built up between her legs, in her breasts, was still there. She needed something to make it go away. She needed him inside her body.

Slowly, he stood and pulled her up with him. He led her to the bed he had made for them, gesturing to it vaguely.

"You need to rest," he said. "I won't bother you."

She looked him in the eye and started to unfasten the laces that held her dress closed across the front. He seemed startled, almost embarrassed.

"This is the only thing I have to wear," she whispered. "I don't want to sleep in it, too. Beside that, the fabric will bunch up as I sleep. I can't imagine I'd get much rest that way."

He watched in silence as she pulled the dress slowly down her shoulders, then stepped out of it. She was nearly naked now; only her shift separated her from his gaze. It was faded and thin from a thousand washings. She turned to face him, standing straight. Her nipples stood out, pink peaks clearly visible.

"I think we should go to bed now," she said softly.

Chapter Nine

Jess had never felt so confused in his life. He'd all but raped this woman's mouth. Her lips were red and swollen from sucking him; even her voice rasped from the strain he'd put on her throat. Now she seemed to be inviting him to do more. Even though he had spent himself just moments earlier, his cock was already coming to attention.

He could bite her, she looked so ripe. How was he going to survive sleeping next to her?

Instead, he turned and strode to the door, flicking off the light. He pulled at his clothing as he felt his way back to the bed. She was already there, waiting for him. Still wearing the damn shift.

He lay down next to her, pulling a blanket over both of them. She turned away from him, facing the wall. He reached around her body and pulled her close. She snuggled up to him, tight little ass wiggling. If he wasn't careful he'd explode on the spot, he thought darkly.

He reached his hand up to her chest, allowing it to cup one of those full, ripe breasts he'd seen through her shift. It fit his hand perfectly as if she had been made specifically for his touch. He found the nipple with two of his fingers, squeezing it lightly. It was already hard, a little nub that cried out to be kissed.

"I'm going to take off your shift," he whispered. She nodded her head, and he rolled her toward him.

He reached down beneath the blankets and found the hem of her garment, then slowly pulled it upward.

His fingers brushed against bare flesh as he moved up her body; he could have sworn she shivered in response.

Then he had it up and over her head. Jess rolled her to her back and leaned down, mouth finding her breast in the darkness. He sucked the nipple in, tonguing it with satisfaction. It was tight and sweet, all his. He sucked it deeper and dropped a hand between her legs.

She was sopping wet.

A surge of triumph went through him. She wanted him, regardless of what had happened between them that day. He slipped his fingers between her folds, finding her clit. He let his fingers play it gently, and she quivered beneath him.

"Oh, Goddess," she whispered. "That feels so good, Jess."

Smiling against her breast, he rolled her clit again, then let two of his fingers sink into her hot, wet opening. He pushed them in as far as they would reach, wiggling them around before pulling back out again. He began to thrust into her with those fingers until she squirmed against his hand. Her fingers plucked at his shoulders and she whimpered in need.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked finally, lifting his head from her breast. "Because if you do, I think you should ask me. I don't want to make any mistakes here."

"I want you to fuck me" she whispered. "Please, Jess, I need you to fuck me. Right now."

He shivered, then raised himself up over her body. He kneed her already spread legs further apart, then reached down to position himself at her opening. The moment felt unreal, as if he was stepping into one of his own dreams.

Slowly, steadily, he started pushing in. It was easier than he'd expected. She was so hot and wet that her cunt seemed to almost suck him in, pulling him down into her depths. He pushed until he could feel his balls against her body, then stayed there for a moment, quivering. She squeezed him a little, massaging him deep down inside, and he moaned.

Then he pushed himself to his knees and reached around to grasp her ankles. He pulled her legs up over his shoulders, moving her gently into position. He wanted to find her deepest spots, to impale her beneath him until she begged him for more. She whimpered.

Pulling out slowly, he started thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm. She twisted beneath him, but he ignored her movements, focusing only on maintaining his motion—in and out, in and out. Each stroke was torture. She was hot and wet and tight, but he was determined not to explode in her this time.

Not until she exploded around him.

He could feel his cock scraping against her clit with each outward stroke. He lifted himself a bit, bracing himself with her legs and leaning down into her. The change in position gave him new leverage.

He was striking bottom now, bumping up against her cervix with every thrust. The little gasps she gave as he hit drove him wild.

He could feel the tension building between them—she was getting closer. Her breathing was ragged, and he could feel her muscles tightening around him. She whimpered again and then she was stiffening beneath him.

"Oh, Goddess,” she whispered. "Oh, Goddess, this is too much. You have to make it end. Jess, you have to make this end or I'm going to die."

He laughed, then gasped as her muscles convulsed around him. She muttered something and arched her back. It felt like his cock was trapped in a vise, painful and incredible all at the same time. She squeezed him again and again, whimpering and thrashing her head. This was not a gentle pleasure; it seemed to be ripping her apart.

He wasn't able to control himself any longer. He pulled back, then slammed into her, pressing her body back down with his full weight. She screamed and he did it again. He was going to come himself.

He was ready for it, desperate to feel his own release. He slammed into her a third time, and to his triumph another orgasm hit her. She clutched him tightly and he exploded, shooting his seed into her body even as his hips bucked and trembled against hers.

Finally, when his head stopped spinning, he lowered her legs from his shoulders. She was limp, completely spent. He allowed himself to collapse on top of her body, remaining embedded in her flesh.

Within seconds they were both asleep.

Chapter Ten

Bethany sat alone in the small room she now shared with Jess.

Two cycles.

It had been two full cycles since he'd brought her there, and she still had no idea what was happening to the other women. She'd asked, of course. But Jess seemed reluctant to answer. It hardly seemed like a good sign.

For her part, she refused to tell him what had really happened to her father. Even though she had decided to confess to the murder before the revolt, she found herself strangely reluctant to take responsibility now. She was even less inclined to tell him the truth about Moriah. She had no idea what the future held for the woman; regardless, a charge of murder wouldn't help. She knew how quickly the women could turn on their own. Jess had refused to let her return to the barracks because he was afraid that the women there might hurt her if they got the chance. They were convinced that she had had a part in the revolt. As much as she hated to admit it, it was probably a wise choice. The hatred in their eyes had been undeniable.

Of course, she wasn't completely alone. Jess spent every night with her. He spent time with her during the day, too. At least he did when he could. He and his fellow former slaves seemed to be extremely busy. Jess was tight-lipped about that, too. In fact, he hardly spoke to her at all. What he did do was touch her body again and again. There was something about him that seemed to take away her will. Time and again she promised herself she wouldn't consent to sex with him unless he gave her some answers, but as soon as he entered their room, she lost all thought of denying him. It would be denying herself, too.

It wasn't until the end of her second cycle in the room that she got her first glimpse of what the future might hold for her. There was a knock at the door, so she scrambled to her feet, calling out, "Jess?"

"It's Moriah. Will you let me in?"

Bethany unlocked her side of the door immediately. She could hear Moriah working the other lock from the other side at the same time. What must her friend think of all this? she wondered.

The door opened, and Moriah stepped in. It took all Bethany had not to burst into tears at the sight of her. She hadn't realized how alone and isolated she'd felt until that moment. They flew into each other's arms, only to jump apart when a man cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I'll leave you two alone for a while," he said. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

"That sounds good," Moriah said, blushing. "I don’t want to be away from the baby too long."

"What's been happening?" Bethany asked as soon as he was gone. "Who is he? Has he hurt you?"

"I don't even know where to begin," Moriah said softly, shaking her head. "Everything has changed.

I can't even understand what's happening, and we're all having to make decisions."

"Decisions?"

Moriah gave a strange laugh, and shook her head again.

"Well, the station is destroyed, I think you already know that," she said. "The mining complex and greenhouse are intact, but the rest of it won't ever be livable again. The men are dead and now we had to figure out what to do with our lives."

Bethany stared at her blankly.

"I don't understand," she said finally. "Jess hasn't discussed this with me."

"I thought he might not have," Moriah replied softly. "He just whisked you away and we didn't know if you were even alive. They think you were in on the plot, that you betrayed us. Or at least, some of them do…" she added, voice trailing off. Moriah looked away from Bethany quickly.

"What about you?" Bethany asked tightly. "Do you think that?"

"I think that we would be dead by now if the elders had discovered your father's body," Moriah said softly. "And I think that my daughter and I have more hope for our future than we've ever had before.

You did what you had to do."

"I didn't betray you," Bethany said tightly. "I didn't know about the escape. They used me, but I wasn't part of it. I wouldn't have done that."

"Not even after the way you've been treated?" Moriah asked softly.

"No," Bethany said. "Not even then."

An awkward silence fell between the two women. Finally, Moriah spoke.

"They're giving us a choice," she said. "The slaves are planning to leave, and they're going to send us away from here. They said that if they leave us here we'll die. We have to decide what we want to do."

"Have they hurt you?" Bethany asked again. "Have they, well, you know…?"

"No, nothing like that," Moriah said quickly. "Some of them have wanted to, but Logan won't let them. Not all of them are like that, Bethany. Some of them are actually quite nice."

"Have any of them been 'nice' to you?" Bethany asked. Moriah looked away.

"I see," Bethany said quietly. "Was that him, the man who brought you?"

"His name is Kresn," she replied softly. "And he hasn't tried to force me to do anything. But he has convinced me I have a choice about how I want to live. You see," she continued earnestly, "there are going to be four ships leaving here. One of them will take women and children to Karos, to the Temple.

The Pilgrims there will help them. The slaves are even sending a load of ore with them to help pay for their expenses when they arrive."

"That seems awfully generous," Bethany said, confused. "Are you sure it isn't a trick?"

"What do they have to gain by tricking us?" Moriah said with a harsh laugh. "Our lives are already in their hands. We don't have any choice but to cooperate with them. They don't have to treat us this kindly."

"Maybe they want you to like them," Bethany replied. "Maybe this kindness is just a way to convince you to have sex with them."

"It's possible," Moriah said softly. "But I can tell you that in the last month I've been forced to have sex more than once by a 'decent' Pilgrim man. I like Kresn's approach better. So what if he's being nice to me so I'll sleep with him? It's better than being blackmailed."

"So you are sleeping with him?" Bethany asked.

"No," Moriah replied. A strange look came over her face, and she hesitated before continuing. "No, I'm not. He wants me to, but I don't think I'm ready for that. He hasn't tried to make me do anything I don't want to do. He's not like some of the others."

"Give him time," Bethany said darkly. "You can't trust men."

"I think I might give him some time," Moriah said, her face wistful. "We don't have to go to Karos.

Some of us have decided we don't want to be Pilgrims any more."

"What do you mean?" Bethany asked, confused. "Of course we're Pilgrims. We were born that way. We can't just be something else!"

"We can now," Moriah said. A little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and Bethany was struck by her beauty. She'd never realized how lovely Moriah was. She'd never seen her as anything but a frightened young woman she had to protect.

"I don't want to be a Pilgrim any more, Bethany. I want to be a free woman. Imagine it! I don't have to marry anyone. My daughter could grow up and do whatever she wants. I can even send her to school!

I don't even really understand what that means, but it sounds like a wonderful thing. Did you know that she could even be a doctor? Like that man, Bragan? He's been examining all the women who will let him.

He knows how to fix all kinds of things, Bethany. He made the shaking in Marta's hands go away. He even fixed that thing on Anna's neck! It's been causing her pain for three years, and now it's gone."

"He's an Imperially-trained physician," Bethany said quietly, trying to understand what Moriah was telling her. "He's also the one who took all the implants out of the slaves so they could revolt. I didn't know women could become doctors. Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes," Moriah said, face lighting up. "Yes, they can! I asked him about it. He's been letting me help him."

"So, where is this wonderful place that you might go?"

"It's part of something called the Saurellian Federation," Moriah replied in an excited voice. "Logan is a Saurellian, and he has a whole planet that belongs to his family, and we're all going to live there."

"Oh, really?" Bethany asked skeptically. "And you believe that? If Logan is so important, how did he end up a slave here? I think they're lying to you, Moriah."

"Maybe they are," Moriah said softly, looking away. "I know I want to believe them, but I understand they could be lying. I still don't want to go back to the way I was living before. For the first time in my life I have a chance to do something else. We've never had a choice before! How can I just go back to the way I was living before, knowing that I had a choice about it? I won't do that to my daughter."

"What if it's worse?" Bethany asked.

"It can't be that much worse," Moriah replied forcefully. "I was being raped by a man older than my father. He was already talking about a marriage alliance for my baby. I'm willing to take the chance."

"How many others are going with you?"

"About sixty, including children," Moriah said. "Logan says that when we get to his planet he'll help us. He'll help all of us."

"What about the slaves?" Bethany asked. "Do they believe Logan?"

"No, not all of them," Moriah said. "About thirty of them are taking their share of the ore and heading out on their own in the third ship. None of the women are going with them."

"What about the fourth ship?" Bethany asked, a tight knot forming in her stomach. "Who is going to be on that one?"

"That one is for you and Jess," Moriah said after a brief pause. "At least that's what Kresn tells me."

"We aren't going with the rest of you?"

"No," Moriah's replied. "Kresn says Jess hasn't told him where he's going. But he's taking you with him."

"I wish Jess would tell me what's going on," Bethany said quietly. "Does he know you're here?"

"No, I don't think so," Moriah said. "In fact, Kresn says he hasn't talked about you at all to any of the men, at least not that he knows of. That's why I asked him to bring me here. I didn't think it was fair that we're all getting a choice and you aren't. Kresn told me Jess hasn't let you out of this room since he brought you here."

"He's taken me out long enough to go to the fresher and clean myself up," Bethany said wryly.

"Otherwise this place might have gotten a little fragrant by now."

Moriah blushed, then giggled.

"Well, I guess you're doing all right," she said. "So tell me…if you haven't been talking with Jess, what have you been doing?"

Now it was Bethany's turn to blush.

"That's what I thought," Moriah said. "For someone who's been locked away for two cycles you seem pretty happy. Although your hair looks awful," she added. Bethany started, then laughed.

"Yes, it does need to be trimmed," she said. "I don't have anything to trim it with, though. I'll have to ask Jess."

"How is he treating you? Is he good to you? Do you want me to talk to Logan or Kresn on your behalf?"

"I like Jess," Bethany said softly, shaking her head. "Or rather, I like touching Jess. I don't really know all that much about him, though. And I don't know where we'll be going after this. I guess I thought we'd be with the rest of the slaves. Now I don't know what to think."

"Maybe you should ask him?"

"I'm not sure I want to hear the answer," Bethany said slowly. "Things were so horrible. Now everything's changed so suddenly. In a strange way, these past two days have been pleasant, Moriah. No talking, no worries. I have no control over the situation and I can't do anything to change it. Instead, I've just been enjoying another person's body, and having him enjoy mine. I hate to think beyond that."

"Well, you'd better start thinking," Moriah said. "This isn't a dream. This is reality, and the choices you make over the next couple of cycles will determine where you live for the rest of your life. Don't forget that."

"I won't," Bethany said quietly. There was a knock on the door, and they looked at each other quickly. An hour hadn't gone by yet.

"Open the door," Kresn's voice came through, sounding strained. Bethany stood and quickly unlocked it.

"Jess is coming," Kresn said. "He found out I brought Moriah to see you and he's upset. We need to get going."

"If he's angry, I'll stay here with Bethany," Moriah said quickly. "I won't leave her to face him alone."

"No, it's all right," Bethany said. "If he was going to hurt me, he would have by now. You should go."

Kresn nodded, and reached out a hand for Moriah.

"Bethany's right," he said. "Jess isn't going to hurt her. I'm more worried about him hurting me," he added with a grin. "Let's go."

Moriah looked to Bethany one last time, then took Kresn's hand. Bethany noticed with a pang how gently he touched her, as if she were incredibly fragile and might break at any moment.

Jess never treated her that way.

Then the door was closed and she carefully locked it. She went back to the pallet and sat down to wait for him. It didn't take long. The door slid open and he entered the room. She was struck by his sheer size, just as she was every time she saw him. He was so much bigger than any man she'd ever met before.

"I hear you had a visitor," Jess said softly, his voice dangerously soft. A chill ran down her spine, but she refused to show how nervous he made her. She hadn't done anything wrong, she reminded herself.

And neither had Moriah. She took a deep breath, steeling her courage.

"You know," she said, ignoring his comment, "you sleep with me every cycle. If I wanted to hurt or fight you I could have done it by now."

"I don't think you want to hurt me," he said.

"Then why do you keep me cooped up here?"

"For your own safety," he replied. "You can't go back in with the women, and I'm afraid to leave you alone with the men. You know that already."

"So if you're only keeping me here for my own safety," she said lightly, "then I don't understand why you would be upset that I have a visitor. I can only assume you don't want me to have any information about what's happening to the others."

"We've been over this before," Jess said, running a hand through his tousled black hair. He didn't look as angry as he had before. By asking him questions she'd managed to deflect him. Something to remember. "The women and children are fine because Logan and I are protecting them. I told you we'd take care of them."

"I have no reason to trust you," she said quietly. "You've already used me to betray my people.

Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"No," he said coolly. "They were men who held me captive. I saw them kill slaves who were helpless to defend themselves simply because they couldn't work any longer. It was only a matter of time before their actions led to my death, either directly or indirectly. As far as I'm concerned this was a matter of self-defense. It's not my fault that they refused to surrender. We didn't go into this intending it to be a fight to the death."

She nodded, and looked away. It amazed her that he could remain so calm over so many deaths.

What kinds of things had he suffered to grow emotional calluses that strong?

"Moriah told me you're giving the women a choice over where they're going after this."

"Yes, we're giving them a choice," he said, coming to sit beside her. She inhaled and smelled his scent. Tangy, sweaty. Masculine. She felt a tightening in her nipples, and sighed, leaning her head back against the wall. Why was it that all she could think about when she was around him was sex? No wonder she hadn't gotten any information from him over the past two cycles. It was as if her body had been taken over by a complete stranger.

"Why?"

"Why?" he repeated, his mouth twisting in dark humor. "Maybe because we're all too familiar with what it feels like to not have choices. Have you considered that? Maybe we're human and have compassion for those around us. For a group of women who just lost all their menfolk, your people seem pretty happy. Quite of few have told us they don't want to go back to another Pilgrim settlement. More than I could have imagined, actually. "

"It isn't as if our lives here have been pleasant," Bethany said. "I suppose there were a few good marriages, though. Moriah had one before her husband died in an accident. What about me?"

"What about you?" he asked.

"Do I get that same choice?" she asked. "Moriah tells me that you won't be going with Logan and the others. You have some other plan. Do I get to pick where I'll end up in all of this?"

He stayed silent for a moment. One of his hands reached down and captured hers. He lifted it between them, playing with her fingers

"No," he said finally. "You'll be coming with me."

"What if I'd rather stay with Moriah and the other women?" she asked.

"The other women hate you," he said. "You wouldn't be safe with them."

"I'd be safe with the women who are happy to escape this place, the ones going with Logan," she said. "Moriah thinks that I helped with the revolt. She doesn't seem to care."

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "You'll be going with me. Accept it."

"I don't have a choice in this?"

"No, you don't," he replied. He turned to her, reaching out and cupping her chin in his fingers. He searched her face with those dark blue eyes and his expression grew intense, dangerous. She shivered.

"From the first time I saw you, I knew I was meant to have you," he said. "I wanted you more than I've ever wanted anyone or anything in my life. Now that we're together, I'm not going to let you go."

He leaned over and kissed her, his mouth taking hers roughly, as if to emphasize the point. For a brief moment she tried to fight against it. She wanted answers, not sex.

She was lying to herself.

She wanted sex all right. As soon as his lips touched hers, it was all she could do to keep herself from straining against him. Then his arms were coming around her, pulling her against him. He dragged her across his body until she clutched at his neck to keep from falling. His tongue thrust into her again and again. She could feel his cock prodding at her hip, searching blindly to get closer to her.

One of his hands came around the back of her head, fisting tightly into her hair. His head slanted across hers, his mouth plunging into her depths and taking as much as he could before rolling her over onto the pallet.

His weight came over her, crushing her down. His knees pushed between her legs, thrusting them apart as she bucked up at him, desperate to feel him within her body. He groaned in response; his fingers fumbled at his pants. She tried to reach down and help, but he captured her hands with his, holding her prisoner. He raised his head from hers, then spoke.

"You are mine. Mine. No one else gets to touch you, do you understand?"

She nodded, mesmerized.

He lifted his hips and thrust into her without preparation. She gasped at the sudden intrusion, but her body had prepared itself, hot and ready for him. He stretched her open, impaling her with his cock, and allowed his head to drop down toward hers.

"Mine," he whispered again, this time softly in her ear. "You are mine."

He punctuated the declaration with steady strokes into her.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked harshly when she didn't respond. He lifted his head, midnight eyes seeming to look down deep into her soul. "Who do you belong to?" he repeated, voice growing strained. She closed her eyes and shook her head, unwilling to answer him. He stopped his steady thrusting, and slowly pulled his cock partway out of her body. She whimpered, lifting her hips toward him. It wasn't enough.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked a third time. She kept shaking her head, and he pulled out of her completely. He transferred both of her hands to one of his, and reached down between them. His fingers found her clit, touching it lightly. She jumped, and he laughed without humor.

His fingers started a slow stroke up and down her clit, tweaking it as he moved back and forth. She whimpered in protest but he ignored her, focusing instead on his fingers' slow movements. Sparkles of sensation came to life at the center of her being. They started in her clit, spreading out in slow circles through her pelvis before skittering up her body to her nipples. The opening between her legs felt so empty. The space he had once stretched to the point of pain cried out for him now. Desire wound its way through her and she twisted with need. A part of her felt angry, betrayed. Why was her own body doing this to her? It wasn't right that he should be able to control her responses so easily.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked once more, fingers slowing in their exploration of her crevices.

She shook her head, whimpering. She wasn't going to give in to him, not like this. He thought he owned her, she reminded herself. He couldn't own her. She wasn't going to allow it. His fingers stabbed into her again and she gasped. One finger, two, three fingers entered her body, his thumb still moving restlessly across her clit. She twisted and he laughed again.

"I think you belong to me now," he said softly. "I think you know it, too. You don't like it, but you can't control yourself. You're mine."

She didn't bother to shake her head in denial this time. It was taking every bit of her strength not to break down and beg him for release. She kept remembering how he felt inside of her, how he would stretch her open, moving slowly at first before going faster and faster. She would feel her muscles start to shiver and trembled, and his cock would swell inside her body. Jess pulled his fingers out of her body abruptly, and the illusion was broken.

"Please," she whispered, beyond fighting. "Please…"

"Who do you belong to?" he asked a final time, and she broke down.

"I belong to you," she said. "Please, I need you inside of me."

He positioned the head of his cock against her entrance, pressed in lightly then stopped.

"I want to hear it again."

"I belong to you," she said again, tears of frustration running down her face. "I belong to you, dammit. Now fuck me before I die."

He laughed again, the sound low and dark. Then he shoved the entire length of his cock into her with one smooth motion. Her frayed nerves exploded and she bucked against him. All the tension that had built up in her body tightened in on that one moment; she flew into oblivion. She could hear him panting in her ears as he thrust into her body toward his own pleasure, but it was as if she were in a universe all her own. She simply lay there, basking in the pleasure and surreal brilliance of her orgasm.

She really did belong to him, she mused, still caught in a sense of unreality. Her body certainly didn't have any doubts. She couldn't imagine anything better than this; nothing could be more perfect. He released her hands, bracing both palms on the pallet beside her head. His upper body rose, allowing him to slam into her more fully. She raised her legs and clenched them tightly around his back, holding him deep within her body as his orgasm hit. He gasped, shuddering. She could feel him pulsating within her and she smiled as the hot seed hit her cervix.

He belonged to her, too, she thought with satisfaction. He needed her just as much as she needed him. He collapsed against her, breaking her train of thought, and she wrapped her arms around him. They lay there together for several minutes, panting. No wonder it was so hard for her to think when he was around, she thought wryly. Every time they touched, they exploded.

After several moments he lifted himself from her body and stood. He turned away as he tucked himself into his pants, erecting an invisible wall between them with his silence. It was far too early for sleep; he would be leaving her now. He always did after moments like this. They had to talk.

"Jess, wait," she said.

"What?" he asked, turning back to her. He suddenly seemed so cold, so distant. She sat up and pulled her skirt over her naked flesh. She felt embarrassed, almost dirty.

"We need to talk about what's going to happen to us," she said softly. "I want to know what your plans are. I want to know what's going to happen to me."

"I'll take care of you," he said tightly. "You don't need to worry about anything else."

"I'd still like to know where we're going. Moriah tells me you're taking the fourth ship. You aren't going with Logan?"

"No," he said tightly. He turned, making it clear the conversation was over. She sat back against the wall, pulling up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. She felt utterly alone. Against her will, she felt tears building up in her eyes and she wiped them away quickly. Without thinking she sniffed, and he turned back to her.

"Oh, shit," he muttered, coming back to sit next to her. He pulled her into his arms and she allowed the tears to flow. For the first time in months—years—she allowed herself to let go, to feel all the frustration and hurt she'd pushed back so many times. It felt good to just let him hold her, to feel his arms around her and collapse against his chest.

He stroked her hair until she stopped crying, and kept stroking it while she hiccupped for a few minutes. Then he reached down and lifted her face with one finger, kissing her softly on the lips. It was a sweet kiss, undemanding and comforting, and the kindness of it almost made her start crying again.

He finished his kiss and pulled away from her. She looked into his eyes, and was suddenly struck again by how much he resembled Logan. Without thinking, she asked, "Are you brothers?"

"What?"

"Are you and Logan brothers?" she repeated. "You look so much alike, I can't help but wonder."

"No," he said after a long pause, his face troubled. "Why were you thinking about Logan while I was kissing you?"

"I wasn't thinking about Logan," she said, feeling herself smile. It felt good to smile, she realized. "But you do look like him. Are you related? I don't know anything about you."

'No, we're not," he said finally. "I've been a slave all my life. I was created and raised in on an Imperial slave farm. Logan is Saurellian. The Saurellians are at war with the Empire."

"What are we?" she asked. "I mean, here in this asteroid field? Are we Imperial or Saurellian?"

"We're Saurellian right now," he said slowly. "Or at least we were when I was sold to your father.

But we had only been under Saurellian control for a short time. Who knows what we are now."

"Which would you rather we be?" she asked. "I mean, what would be better?"

"I don't know," he said slowly, tucking her into the crook of his arm. She snuggled up to him, allowing herself to simply enjoy his touch for once. "I don't suppose it matters to me all that much. I doubt either of them will care very much about a small slave revolt on a Pilgrim mining station. They have more important things to worry about."

"So where are we going?" she asked again softly. "If we're going together, don't you think I should know?"

He sighed, then nodded.

"I suppose so," he said softly. "I'm not used to telling other people my plans."

"Well, I'm not used to having plans," she replied lightly. "But a lot of things have changed."

"We're going to find my sister," Jess said after a pause. "Her name is Calla, and she's a slave at Discovery Station. She's owned by a Pilgrim woman named Jenner. I can't leave her behind."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Bethany said. "I guess I don't really know all that much about you."

"No, you don't," he replied, giving her a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He pulled her tighter and his voice grew distant. "You know nothing about me at all."