He stopped, a frown on his face. "Now, wait a minute, sweet meat. "
She laughed him to silence. "You don't know who I am, do you? Where have you beenail your life, in the streets of Etarus?" Direct hit. His face reddened.
He rubbed his chin, thinking.
"You seem to know the security system. If it would make you feel better, you turn it off." He.extended an arm as he drank in her body. "But I'll warn you, I want full measure."
"And I'll give it." Oh, will I give it! She stepped to the head of the sleeping platform and opened a box. Deftly she flipped off the switches and looked around, mouth pursed. She walked to a statue mounted on the wall and moved it, exposing a second box. That, too, she opened to flip three toggles. Satisfied, she turned, seeing his anger-hardened eyes.
"Your first payment?" She filled her lungs and adopted a wide legged posture, her head thrown back, taunting. "Come and get it."
"By the Rotted Gods, I will," he growled, starting for her, peeling off his tunic in the process.
Skyla's first kick caught him under the ribs on the right side. She spun, hammering him hard under the mastoid with an elbow, danced, and dislocated his keecap with another kick.
She dropped on him, knee first, as he hit the floor gasping for breath. She rested a forearm across his neck and stared into his dazed eyes. "You forgot to ask why I called myself, 'C.' Interested?"
She let up a little on his throat while he gasped another breath, eyes fear-glazed and frantic.
"C stands for Companions." She let that sink in. "The man you sold into slavery was Lord Commander Staffa kar Therma."
He trembled and she nodded. "Yes, I see you know what that means. Now, stand up." She released him and backed away, waiting, ready to strike again.
He limped to the sleeping platform, eyes miserable. "I–I didn't know. He. looked like a Nab who… It was an honest mistake!"
Skyla stood impassively. "The Lord Commander's weapons. Where are they?"
Broddus swallowed, gray shading his features. "Top drawer. My side. Something's wrong with my side. Feels real funny."
Skyla picked a walking stick from the wall and hooked the drawer, pulling it open from an angle. She approached cautiously, wary of booby traps, before she lifted Staffa's possessions from the cavity.
"You were very presumptuous." Skyla turned, settling Staffa's weapons belt over her own. "I didn't lie to you. Holos of our business dealings would have made you rich. Uy Takka, the Regan Minister of Internal Security knows I'm here, somewhere. She would have paid a fortune for such information." She smiled. "But then you won't be reporting it, will you?"
"N-no. N-never. My word… I give it… I'll never…" he stammered, blinking back tears. "It was a mistake! Just a mistake!"
Skyla frowned, studying him. She walked to the drawer and pulled a laser from among his other weapons, fingering it thoughtfully. Broddus began whimpering and shaking his
head. Eyes wide he clutched his mottling right side. He'd gone white now, and not just from fear.
Skyla checked the charge and triggered the weapon. Smoke curled from the sleeping platform.
"What are you. Rotted Gods! NO!" He lost control of his body, sinking
onto the sleeping platform.
"Where's the rest of Staffa's money?"
"In my belt purse, hanging on the right of the wardrobe! Take it. Don't hurt me!"
She pulled the door open with the cane and found it. Only two thousand credits remained. Turning, she slipped the credits into her pouch and calmly walked up to stare into his frightened eyes.
"You are aware of the Etarian practice of dealing with thieves, I suppose." She bit back the impulse to spit into his face.
His eyes closed for a second and he swallowed loudly. His nod was a bare quiver.
"If you move, I will kill you. Just that simple. Have you the courage to live? Death would be much easier."
"Live." His face contorted the track of the tears leaking down his cheeks.
"And you will tell the world what happens to those who dare cross the Companions?"
"I. I. " He began sobbing.
She triggered the laser on low power. He screamed when it touched his flesh. With great art, she carved the Etarian symbol for a thief into his forehead, burning deep to etch it into the frontal bone.
"Death is easier," she reminded, heart tightening.
"I want to live!"
Without a second's hesitation, she burned off his right hand; the coherent light cauterized the stump as he screamed deafeningly.
"Live well, thief. Remember the Companions — and the time you robbed Staffa kar Therma." She hesitated at the door, seeing the pale cast to his features. Her first kick had ruptured his liver. Death lingered but minutes away."… And gave the Lord Commander over into slavery!"
She bundled Staffa's combat suit into an empty pack she found in the main room and pulled her robes on, readjusting the veil. Grabbing up her weapons, she slipped out
the door and descended the stairs to the main room. A few eyes looked her way, seeing the pack. No one said anything.
In the street, she turned her tracks toward the little shop where she had rented a small room in the rear. On the way, she studied her back trail. No one. She had to move fast. Broddus might live long enough to tell.
/ should have killed him outright! Getting soft, Skyla. No, not that at all. Dead, he'd have had no time to suffer. Let him die knowing he's a broken man.
She hurried to her small room, trading a jest with the owner, and locked her door. After reshuffling the packs, she donned her combat armor, satisfied by the reassuring tug of her blaster on her hip. She slipped the coarse robes of an Etarian matron over her shoulders and pinned the veil in place. With Staff a's suit and gear packed on top of her white gossamer gown, she took up the packs and left; her steps turned toward the Warden's central slave quarters.
She shook her head as her heart pounded hollowly. "Oh, Staffa, what have you done?" She bit her lip, wondering how he'd managed to stand slavery and degradation.
She could see him, suffering one indignity after another, his wild rages caused by the Praetor's mind traps bringing him to grief after grief. They'd make him suffer for his pride. Stun rods, floggings, perhaps even mutilation.
"You were never taught about the street, Staffa. For all your power and reputation, you never understood the way humanity works. Pray to the Blessed Gods I am not too late!"
The giant, Brots, had arrived arrogant, dominating, his eyes piggish and deep-set in his flat face. Unlike the others, he wore the collar with a disgraceful pride. The first day, he'd begun to test the system by muscling the weaker slaves out of the way. Anglo had been rotated for Morlai, so, for the moment, Kaylla enjoyed some relief.
That night, Staffa suffered a severe bout of depression. Alone in his misery, he didn't realize how long Kaylla had been gone. Suddenly worried, he began to prowl; within minutes he saw her limping in from the dunes. She stopped short of camp, body bent and tired as she settled on the
white sand. The Etarian moon hung low, but enough illumination remained to see defeat as she hung her head. Her shoulders began shaking with sient sobs.
She didn't hear the soft grinding of sand beneath his feet. Staffa settled beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Tension and fear possessed her as she recoiled from his touch.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. Just. just leave me alone!
Even in the pale light, he could see her swollen lips. She resisted when he placed his fingers under her chin and lifted. The side of her face was puffed out. Dark bruises mottled her neck.
"Who?" Pent rage broke loose.