Inlan jerked awake at the sound of voices.

Why is it so dark? Are my eyes still closed?

Rubbing his eyes, he heard the voices again, low, but loud enough to make out the words.

"She bought it?"

"Yeah, she came real quiet."

Clementine!

Inlan cursed himself for falling asleep. What if he'd slept through the whole thing?

Rhett said something else, but Inlan missed it as he wrapped and tied his mechasuit between his legs and around his waist. Someone cried out, and he heard quick steps running away. Inlan began to climb down as fast as he could.

Something hit the floor below, and he heard Rhett's voice, but the words were lost. One of the men was still near the ladder, and with the tunnel quieter, Inlan had to slow his descent for fear of being heard. He was already halfway down though. A little farther and he'd be able to drop.

The other man stepped directly in front of the ladder, leaning against it. If he stayed there, Inlan's fall would be shorter and his landing softer. But Inlan was not a light man -- a hit like that could break the man's legs. Was Inlan willing to cross that line? Was he going to harm the very people he had sworn to protect?

"How about we go at the same time?" the man asked. "She'll keep quiet with my johnson in her mouth."

Disgust churned Inlan's stomach. He didn't know exactly what the man meant by johnson, but he had a bad feeling his first guess was correct.

No, injuring this man would leave no stain on Inlan's conscience.

Sensing his moment was near, he quickened his pace, not bothering to keep quiet. The moment the man looked up, Inlan let go of the ladder.

"Hey!"

The man leapt out of the way in time to avoid the collision, but Inlan had been close enough that his landing was still nearly painless. Rhett started running, dragging Clementine behind him like she was a sack of ore. Inlan chased after them, but the other man tackled him before he could get far, knocking him to the ground and punching him in the back.

The blow hurt, but not as much as it hurt the man. He gasped as his soft fist met metallic Relican flesh, and Inlan had no problem rolling to the side, trapping the man's leg beneath him. Inlan snapped his elbow back, cracking the man's rib.

"Where are they going?" he demanded, keeping his voice low. The wall between them and the auditorium was thick, but no need to risk being heard.

He was still on top of the man, and when no answer came other than more pained moans, Inlan pressed down -- not too hard, but enough -- on his broken bone.

The man cried out, and between hisses of pain, said, "I don't know. I don't know where his room is."

"I have no problem breaking more of your ribs," threatened Inlan, although the idea of torturing this Earthan didn't sit well with him, despite what the man had done -- and wanted to do -- to Clementine.

"Please!" the man gasped. "I don't know, I swear! He was gonna bring me there!"

Though still unconvinced, Inlan rolled off of him and began running down the same corridor Rhett had taken Clementine. When he came to the first intersecting hall, he paused, considering where they could have gone.

If his only goal was pairing -- Inlan raged at the idea -- they could do that anywhere; any corridor would be sufficient. But the man Inlan had fought said he didn't know where Rhett's room was.

There were storage and utility rooms all throughout the cart. Some held food rations or spare transport pods, while others provided access to waste and water processing. Where would this man go? Most of the rooms were full of supplies, providing little space for habitation. Although, the water utility room had an empty storage section in the back, meant to provide space for expansion if needed for future relocations.

Inlan started running, but when he reached the first intersection that would lead him to the utility room, he turned and went in the opposite direction. The spare transport pods themselves could be used as someone's lodge, and that room was closer. He'd start there, then check the utility room.

Please don't be in the utility room.

"I'd give you a tour," Ugly said with a sneering smile, "but there ain't much to see."

Keeping her back to him, Clementine closed her fist around a scalpel. It still had a protective cap over the blade, but maybe she could shove it in his eye. She cringed at the thought of doing that to someone, but what other option did she have? The likelihood of that mystery man back in the hall finding them and arriving before anything happened was slim to none, thanks to all of those twists and turns Ugly had taken.

"Get on the bed," he ordered.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," she said, not moving.

"That mouth's liable to get you into trouble someday."

His voice was moving closer. Clementine stood, but didn't turn around, steeling herself against what she was about to do.

He wants to do something even worse to you, she reminded herself.

"Get on the bed," he repeated, almost right behind her, "or I won't be nice."

"This is nice?" she scoffed, though her voice cracked with fear.

His hot hand squeezed her ass. "This is real nice."

Clementine raised the scalpel up and spun around. She missed his eye and jabbed him in the cheek. He cried out, and she shoved against him, hoping to run past. But he grabbed her around the waist, throwing her down on the bed.

"No!" she screamed, trying to get up. He threw himself on top of her and easily stripped the tool from her hand.

"You had yer chance," he said, struggling to pin down her arms. "No more nice guy."

"Let me go!" she shouted, kicking and flailing.

The few months of self-defense she'd gone to with Tierney a few years back sprang to mind. She scooted her hip to the side and pushed against the bed with her foot, but only succeeded in sliding the suitcases beneath them apart. She jerked her hips down into the gap and kicked up her knees, getting one against Ugly's chest.

"Quit!" he shouted, then wrapped a hand around her throat. "You don't have to be awake for this," he warned.

Still sore from his attack on her yesterday in the transport pod, she stopped struggling.

"You gonna behave?" he asked.

Tears leaked down her swelling face as she nodded, desperate to stop the excruciating pain shooting up and down her body. He loosened his grip, but didn't let go completely.

"Let's get you set, then," he said, wicked triumph in his eyes. He got off of her and pulled her up. "Fix the bed," he ordered, unzipping his pants.

Rolling off the bed, she stayed on her hands and knees for a moment to catch her breath and let the pulsing in her head ease.

"Hurry up," barked Ugly.

Anger welled up inside her. Her eyes burned with tears of frustration as she stood. She wouldn't give in. Even if he strangled her again, she'd rather be unconscious if he was really going to --

Wait. Strangled. She eyed the rope dangling from her wrists, a plan forming in her mind. No sympathy this time. She wouldn't get another chance.

Running through the motions in her mind, she pushed the suitcases back together.

"On the bed," ordered Ugly, "on yer back." His pants were off, but his briefs were still on, thank god. She probably would have thrown up if the thing pointing at her wasn't covered.

Heart pounding, she crawled onto the sleeping bag. She made a show of the rope getting in the way, and grabbed the end of it, lifting her hands over her head as she lay on her back.

"Take off yer shorts."

She wanted him to think she was defeated, so, keeping hold of the rope, she brought her hands down and unbuttoned her fly. "I can't slide them off with my hands like this," she said, her voice weak and scratchy.

"Well I ain't untyin' you," he growled. "Put yer hands over yer head."

She did as he said, lifting her hips off the ground at the same time, ostensibly to make it easier for him to slide her shorts off, but really she was hoping to distract him from the rope in her hand.

He walked over and ran his hungry eyes down her body.

Get on the bed, she prayed. Get on your knees.

But instead of following her silent command, he moved towards her hands, repeating, "Let's get you set."

No! He was going to take the rope!

When he leaning over for the rope, Clementine rolled off the bed, crashing straight into his legs. She jumped up as he fell forward, and leapt onto his shoulders, pinning him down.

"I shoulda blacked you out, bitch!" he cried, trying to rise.

Pressing down on his head with her knees, she slid the rope under his face and around his neck, pulling back with all her strength. Wet, sputtering noises leaked from his mouth, but Clementine blocked them out and kept pulling.

In the distance she heard a clanging noise from back in the pipe room. Was someone opening the door? Was it Cody?

Fresh, paralyzing fear overtook her. Should she run? Would she be able to get past him? What would they do to her now that she'd almost killed Ugly?

With one last hard jerk on the rope, she jumped up and hid beside the doorway. With any luck she'd be able to slip past Cody and make a break for the door.

Ugly remained face down on the bed, but she hardly noticed, consumed by the thought that she needed a weapon, something to hit Cody with as soon as he walked through. But his shadow was already growing bigger on the bedroom wall. She was out of time.

Inlan jogged into the back room, coming to a sudden stop when he saw Rhett's body. The man was unmoving. Was he breathing? Inlan pressed his fingers to the man's neck.

"Did I kill him?" 

The words were weak and hoarse, but they roared in Inlan's ears. He whipped around to see Clementine, flat against the wall.

"Clementine," he said, rushing over to her.

The sight of her made him wish he had killed the man on the floor himself. Her hands were tied with a thick, coarse rope, and her neck was a pale but darkening purple. One of her cheeks bore a scab in the center of a green bruise, while the other was bright red, with a more recent blow. But it was the tears sliding down her cheeks, the tears that she kept wiping away with a trembling hand, that caused him the most pain. If she were Lutari, he would have placed his hand on the back of her neck to comfort her. Earthans embraced to show affection -- or share in a celebration, as Clementine herself had done to him once. But the idea of pressing himself against her, his skin against hers, didn't feel right to him. For many reasons.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," he said.

She was staring at him, but with haunted eyes that were seeing something else. Or someone else.

"Is he... did I..."

Should he burden her with the truth? Would she be relieved that Rhett was no longer a threat? Inlan had been forced to take another's life before, and even though it had been an enemy, it was not an easy thing to live with.

The truth is harder. The truth is easier.

The words from the Passages were recited daily by Relican children for a reason, it seemed.

"He's dead."

Clementine nodded, and though more tears fell, she closed her eyes and let out a breath. Inlan hoped there was relief in it.

He wanted to talk to her about their kiss, to tell her that he'd never make her do anything with him, but bringing that up with a dead man behind him seemed... less than appropriate.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked.

She laughed nervously and said, "Yeah. But first, can you get this off of me?" She raised her bound hands.

He nodded, though a wave of panic rushed over him. What if he touched her? Feeling the skin of anyone but his mate went against everything he'd ever been taught.

You've already broken that sacred tenet with her, though, haven't you?

"There's a scalpel over there if that would be helpful," she said. He picked up the small metal tool on the floor she was pointing at. "If you take that plastic cap off, there's a blade underneath."

He did as she said, but could only stare at her hands. Touching her, breaking a sacred tenet of Relica, was bad enough. But the thought of doing so when she feared his touch, was even worse. She wasn't acting afraid of him, but it could be a facade. She didn't have any other options if she wanted those ropes off of her, did she?

"I want you to know," he said, forcing himself to meet her gaze, "that I would never hurt you."

Her eyes darted back and forth between his, her brow creased in confusion.

Inlan couldn't bear the silence and continued. "I may be a bronze, but I'm sworn to protect all Earthans."

Except rooters who want to hurt you.

"If I've done anything to make you think otherwise, I'm sorry."

Understanding slowly brightened her eyes, but she didn't say anything. Inlan wanted to keep talking, to delay her reply. The longer she was quiet, the longer he could believe that he was wrong.

"I trust you, Inlan," she said. "Now please get me the hell out of here."

It wasn't quite the response he was looking for -- an admission that she had enjoyed their kiss too, would have been nice -- but it was enough to ease his panic. Getting down on one knee, he gestured for her to do the same. Then, as if it were no big deal, he gently placed her bare arms on his bare knee, and began sawing away at the middle of the rope.

She winced, clenching her teeth in pain.

"Does it hurt?" he asked. Now that he was this close, he could see the skin around the rope was chafed and swollen.

"Yeah, but keeping it on there won't make it feel better. It would probably go faster if you did the side, though," she said. "It's thinner there."

He went back to his work and said, "But then I might cut you. This is safer. If I get through some of these knots, we can probably just untie it."

He was halfway done with the first layer when she asked, "Why are you here? And why are you wearing your uniform like that?"

"Would you believe me if I said this is the latest fashion trend among young Relican males?"

"No," she said with a laugh -- a real laugh, this time.

He didn't want to tell her the truth, fearing it would diminish him in her eyes. But he did want to hear her laugh some more, and sensed the story would accomplish that. So he told her about his secret mission to find the Vice President, and how that was the real reason she'd caught him in that crawl space backstage. Then, leaving his pride behind, he confessed his well-intentioned but poorly executed magnetic mechasuit program. Framing it as a comedy of errors rather than the near-death experience that it had been, he soon had her grinning and laughing, as relaxed as if they were back at rehearsal.

"So I jumped onto the pod, and who was in it, but you!" He tugged the last bit of rope apart. "Because of my brilliant Trajectory skills, I couldn't transmit to the Irral for reinforcements, so I climbed up above the auditorium and saw what was going on. Then I heard Rhett talking to the guard, and I camped out at the top of the ladder until leaping valiantly down to save you. That is, after I nearly slept through the whole thing..."

He trailed off. Clementine was no longer smiling. She rubbed her raw wrists and flexed her fingers, but her thoughts had traveled elsewhere again.

"That was you," she said, still not looking at him. "The noise on the roof. That was you."

Inlan's stomach clenched. They had heard him. But what did that mean? Why did it matter?

Her gaze returned to him, and the shadow in her eyes cleared, giving him a sad smile. "It's okay. It probably wouldn't have mattered."

He almost asked her to explain, but decided instead to leave it alone. She was free, and they needed to get out of there.

Standing up, he said, "Humans Right has taken over the control center for the cart. I have to get down there before they accidentally harm the inhabitants, or the Squad. I'll get you across the transport range, then give you directions to the nearest exit."

Clementine slowly absorbed his words, then stood as well. "I'll go with you."

He shook his head. "You should go before I get the Vice President. In case anything goes wrong, you'll be able to let the Irral know what's happening."

"You don't have to get the VP. He's a jerk. Tierney was vague about what happened that last day on Earth, but I'm pretty sure he tried to kill her and President Freeland."

"Kill them? I know the other man -- the Vice President's assistant? -- was sent to Melea in exile, but --"

"Yeah, Jonas was an ass too. But his head was too far up Grant's ass to do anything on his own."

Inlan's head spun with her accusations -- and imagery. "Regardless, I was assigned to retrieve the Vice President, and I'm closer right now than I've ever been before."

Probably. Maybe not.

She frowned at him, but picked a flashlight up off the floor and handed it to him. Then she walked across the room -- giving Rhett's body a wide berth -- and took what Inlan recognized as her cello case.

"Fine. How do I get out of here?"

He started giving her directions as they walked through the utility room. Before stepping into the dark hall, Inlan started turning the flashlight over, searching for the control panel. Clementine reached over and pushed a flat, circular button, and a beam of light switched on.

"Thank you," he said. Then, seeing her smirk, he said, "This technology is too primitive for a species as advanced as mine."

"Uh-huh," she said, still smiling.

They had to go back towards the main corridor behind the auditorium, but they wouldn't have to go all the way back. A few access passages down was a corridor that would lead to the spare transport pod room. Then it was just a matter of --

"Down here!" a man's voice yelled. It was still a ways off, but it was in the direction they were going.

Inlan turned off the flashlight. Clementine's hand touched his shoulder, then traveled down to his empty hand.

"Don't lose me, please," she whispered, gripping his hand firmly.

If Inlan needed proof that he was indeed a lecherous bronze, he had it now. Despite the danger of the situation, and the horror that Clementine had just experienced, the feel of her squeezing his bare hand with her own made his heart race and his organ stir. He started moving ahead, trying to focus on getting them to safety, but instead his mind flooded with the memory of their kiss, and how those same hands had been in his hair.

"It's this way," the man shouted, the sound of footsteps now audible. Inlan recognized the voice. It was the guard he had fought.

So he was lying.

Inlan pushed back his anger, knowing it would only cloud his mind further. Keeping his fingers against the wall, he started running, counting the number of corridors they passed.

Lights appeared ahead, though no one was in their hall yet. If Inlan had counted correctly, they only had one more tunnel to pass before reaching the one they needed. It would be close, but they could make it. They had to make it.