‘No, another prisoner. A Slayer. In a right state too.’
The black uniform is torn and filthy and he’s clearly taken a fierce beating. His legs kick feebly as the crewmen drag him closer before dropping him. His head hits the deck with a loud thwack. Slayer or not, I can’t help wincing.
One of the crewmen unslings a killstick and waves it at us. ‘Back up, away from the cage door.’
‘You heard him,’ the other growls. ‘Shift yourselves.’
Sky and me, we’re already at the back of the caged area. Kids nearer the door haul themselves slowly and grudgingly to their feet before shuffling back towards us. The unarmed crewman unlocks the cage door and swings it open.
‘Won’t get a better chance than this,’ I whisper to Sky, slipping the words out of the side of my mouth.
‘No!’ Her cold claw of a hand clamps round my wrist.
While the guy with the killstick covers him, his buddy grabs the Slayer by his heels and drags him inside the cage. The man’s head leaves an ugly red smear behind on the deck plates. I’m raging, but Sky’s still got hold of me. The crewman dumps the Slayer, retreats and clangs the cage door shut again. Gives it a tug to check it’s secure.
‘Some company for you,’ he jeers.
‘What we need is food,’ somebody calls out.
‘Eat this guy then,’ the crewman says, and laughs.
They both clear off, and the hatch shuts behind them.
Sky lets go of me at last.
‘Great!’ I thump my head into the hull behind me.
Meanwhile, the nublood kids gather round the face-down Slayer. I see clenched fists and angry looks. One mean-looking lad growls something about it being time for payback and kicks the guy in the ribs.
I hiss out a breath and clamber to my feet. ‘Hey! Quit that!’
Growler boy sneers. ‘What do you care?’
‘Yeah, back off,’ a tall girl with a pox-marked face snarls.
I don’t need this. Twelve of them, only one of me, and I’m supposed to be keeping my head down. But now I get my first good look at the Slayer. I see the way-too-long-for-a-Slayer blond hair, matted with blood.
‘Oh, no way. It can’t be!’
I barge past the kids, drop to my knees and roll him on to his back. Stare in disbelief at the battered face.
‘What the frag are you doing here?’ I hiss.
Murdo! Still in the captured and patched Slayer gear he wore the night he marched us over to be thrown inside the loading cage. But what’s he doing here? We left him behind on Wrath. Unless they caught him? Crap! Does this mean they’re on to Sky and me too? Nah. Can’t be. The crewmen didn’t even glance at us when they threw him in.
I’m working on winding my gob shut when growler boy grabs hold and hauls me to my feet.
‘Mate of yours, is he? This Slayer?’
I’m collecting hard stares from the rest of the nublood kids too. And now that lurch thing happens again. We all stagger. By the time my eyes quit playing the fool again, the prickly skin feeling is back with a vengeance.
The kid holding me seems unfazed; he shoves his face at me. ‘You and your sick friend over there – who are you?’
We haven’t told them yet, or why we tricked our way into the cage and off Wrath, in case somebody squealed. Early on, one kid asked us where we’d appeared from. Sky told him a made-up ident camp name. And lied about us being shipped into the No-Zone weeks earlier to slave away on fetching and carrying inside the Slayer dome, until it came time to ship us off-world. Since then we’ve kept ourselves to ourselves and our mouths shut.
‘What do you mean?’ I say, stalling.
He’s half a head shorter than me, but much broader and stockier. And I’m pretty sure his name is Cam. The way he carries himself tells me he knows how to use his fists; the harsh look on his face says he likes using them.
He jerks his head at Murdo, who still hasn’t moved.
‘You know that Slayer, don’t you?’
‘How about you let go of me?’
‘How about you tell me why you’re mates with a Slayer?’
He shoves me a step backwards, and his mates crowd round too, peering at me suspiciously. Behind them, I catch a glimpse of Sky struggling to stand up.
‘You’re asking for it,’ I snarl. ‘Let go of me, or –’
‘Or what ?’ Cam gives me a harder shove that slams me back against the bars of the cage, rattling them.
That does it. I’ve had enough of being pushed around.
I crouch, which pulls him closer. Fists together, I burst upwards and lash out to break free. Before he can react, I’ve spun and hip-thrown him on to his back on the deck. He stares up at me, mouth open, winded and shocked. I’m guessing nobody’s ever body-slammed him before.
His mates look gobsmacked too. Good.
It’s tempting to be all sneery and ‘I-did-warn-you’. Instead, I hold my hands out in front of me to show him I don’t want to fight. And I go for my most reasonable look.
‘Okay, you’re right, I do know the guy. His name’s Murdo Dern. But it’s not what it looks like. He’s no Slayer. He’s just wearing their gear and pretending.’
Even to me it sounds lame, heading for unbelievable.
I step back. Cam picks himself up, glaring at me the whole time. ‘Pretending? Why would he?’
‘It’s a long story,’ I tell him.
‘And not one we want shouted out loud,’ Sky says. She’s up now, but it looks like it’s costing her.
‘So get telling then,’ Cam growls.
‘It’d better be good,’ the pox-marked girl says.
Now I’d rather be finding out from Murdo how in hell he’s wound up in this star freighter’s cage with us. But, short of pulling my blaster, that’ll have to wait.
‘Tell them, Kyle,’ Sky says. ‘But keep it down. Okay?’
‘Fine.’ I whisper the telling in as few words as I can manage, starting with Sky, Murdo
