We have no way to mark the passage of time. On the generation ship there was artificial day and night, built into the ship itself. One of the many things our ancestors considered in the design. Human bodies run on cycles of awake and asleep triggered by the external cues of day and night. In our small room there is no consideration of that. The only break in the monotony is when food shows up. A small section of the door to the room slides up, a bucket is shoved in, and then the section slams shut.

Those of us chained further from the door depend on Cenar to reach the bucket then share it around with us. When the first bucket shows up, my stomach grumbles loudly. I don’t know when I last ate, but it’s been a long time. Cenar grabs the bucket and pulls it to him. He scoops out a thick gruel with his hands and shovels it into his mouth. He licks his fingers clean each time before dipping them back into the bucket. A disgusting habit, and if I wasn’t so damn hungry, I’d skip eating because of it.

I close my eyes and do my best to ignore the sounds of his eating. When he takes his fill, he passes it to Mesto, who has no such concerns, taking to it with a gusto that is loud and sloppy. Mesto passes it to K’sara and so it goes until at last Todd slides it to me. Closing my eyes and forcing my hand to move through an effort of will, I eat the slop. It’s bad but not terrible. It’s tasteless, mostly. What taste it does have is similar to dirt and ash mixed together to form a paste. When I finish it, I hand it to Visidion.

Once we finish eating, there is nothing left to do but to stare despondently around the small space at each other or to sleep. As time passes, I make small talk with our cellmates, learning what I can about them. Todd is the hardest to engage with. Of all of us, he seems the most resigned to his fate, embracing it with no interest in taking control of it. It might be a stretch to say we become friends or allies even, but there is a definite connection that I actively work to develop. I don’t have a plan but the one thing I’m certain of is that if we’re to escape we’ll need help. With that end in mind, I work to build trust among the captives.

Assuming we all end up in the same place. Assuming there is a chance to get free. Assuming, assuming, assuming, lots of assumings because I have no data to work with. It doesn’t matter, because I know what I’m doing right now is the right thing. Focusing on the now keeps despair at bay. Counting the meals and assuming that they feed us three times a day, two weeks pass by my estimation. Long, boring days, but I make a lot of progress in that time. Even Todd is opening up, if only a little.

The vibration of the ship’s engines changes, going from a constant background thrumming to a violent shaking of the floor. All of us sit up, taking notice, except Todd who sighs loudly as his only response.

“What it is?” Mesto asks.

“We’re slowing down,” I answer, recognizing the feel of the thrusters reversing from my training as a fighter pilot.

“Ha!” Mesto says. “Krik, here we are!”

“So,” I say, pulling the room’s attention to me. “Are we in agreement?”

“Agree?” Cenar asks, the grinding sound of his body as he shifts positions almost drowning out his words.

“Yes, agree. We work together and find a way to gain our freedom back,” I remind them all of the things we’ve talked about during the last two weeks.

“Free, together,” Mesto nods so enthusiastically it looks like it could break his neck. “Mesto free. Yes, ha!”

“If we meet in arena? What then?” K’sara asks.

Over our time together I’ve learned that K’sara is practical to a fault.

“Are all arena battles to the death?” I ask, looking around to see if anyone actually knows.

“No,” Todd says, sitting up and scooting around until his back is against the wall.

Todd’s shirt rides up across his protruding belly, revealing more of the swirling black tattoos that cover his yellow skin, intertwining around the blue striations. He scratches himself, coughs loudly, then turns his head and spits.

“Then we do what we have to do,” I say.

“Some will be though,” he says. “Blood Fights make the most money, but they’re rare. Usually for troublemakers. Like you.”

“Good to know,” Visidion says.

“I’ll kill you, if I have to,” Todd says. “But I don’t want to. Not anymore.”

“Thanks,” I say, glancing over at Visidion.

Visidion can’t hide his anger, not from me. The edges of his scales are a bright red, a sure sign he’s pissed. Todd is big, but he doesn’t seem to be quick or well muscled, both of which Visidion is. A match between them would probably go to Visidion. Putting a hand on Visidion’s shoulder, I smile, trailing my fingers up his neck to cup his face. Now is not the time for him to be consumed by rage.

“What say you all?” I ask.

“Cenar agree,” he grumbles.

“Mesto free, Mesto want,” he says.

“Why not,” K’sara answers.

All of us shift and stare at Todd. He’s leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed, apparently oblivious to all of us. We wait, bated breath, until I have to breathe.

“Todd?” I prompt.

“What?” he asks.

“Are you in?” I ask.

“What about wings? Haven’t heard him speak,” he says.

“I’m in, of course,” Visidion says.

“What do you mean, of course?” Todd challenges.

Visidion hisses, rising to a crouch, the chain clanking. Anger rolls off him in hot waves.

This is a terrible moment for the bijass to turn him into a raging alpha male asserting his dominance.

Shifting quickly to put myself between him and Todd, I put both my hands on his face. His eyes are clouding over. I can see the rage taking control of him. Behind me chains drag across the floor as Todd shifts, ready to meet Visidion’s attack. I have to stop this. Visidion grips my arms, his muscles tense, and in a moment he’ll move me aside, and everything will be ruined.

Leaning forward quickly, I kiss him. I smash my lips into his so fast I hit with a bruising force. Ignoring the instant of pain, I shove my tongue into his mouth. His mouth resists, a moment, then his hard lips relax and move against mine, his tongue rises to meet mine as he returns the kiss in full.

Gasps surround us, then I hear Mesto cheering, jumping up and down by the sound of his chains clanking, and clapping his hands.

“HA!” Mesto cries out.

The tension drains from Visidion. His lips, soft and warm against mine, his tongue dancing with mine, make my body respond, core tightening as my heart rate increases. His strong arms embrace me, pulling me tight. Molding against him, I open myself to him, forgetting our audience. His wings open then close around us, shielding the moment from view.

“Ah, fair not! Ha!” Mesto grouses.

Parting for air, I smile and Visidion returns the same.

“Better?” I ask.

“It’s always better, with you,” he whispers.

“Good,” I smile.

Pushing away he folds his wings back and I turn to face our fellow prisoners.

“I’m in,” Visidion says, gaze locked on Todd.

The tension rises while Todd stares back at Visidion. I don’t know if Todd is being deliberately difficult or not. It’s hard to read him. Mesto’s head is turning back and forth between them, a stupid grin on his face showing the sharp teeth along his long mouth. It almost looks like he’s panting. Does he want to see these two throw down?

“Okay,” Todd says finally.

“You’re in?” I ask, pushing him to state his intentions.

“For now,” he shrugs.

Anger shoots through me, and almost I open my mouth. I manage to snap it shut before I say sharp words that will not help me accomplish my goals.

“Good,” I say.

It is good. Good enough, anyway, and the most I can hope for right now. The ship bucks and shimmies, sure signs we’re entering a gravity field. We’ll land soon. I hope my vague plan of escape will work. Until we land, I lean back to the wall and close my eyes, letting the rough vibrations rock me into a mindless state of resting.

* * *

The door to our cell slides open with a creak. Four Zzlo guards stand outside it in full space armor, weapons at the ready. One of them enters, walks over to Cenar, and unlocks his chain from the wall. The other three have their weapons focused on him the entire time. Cenar stares at me as the Zzlo prods him with its gun. Slowly he climbs to his feet, and subtly I shake my head, letting him know it’s not time yet. I’m watching for an opportunity for us to escape. I don’t think, even if we all go together, we can take the ship. I’m hoping a better option appears.

Once Cenar is on his feet, the Zzlo drags Cenar’s chain over to Mesto. Before he unlocks the chain holding Mesto to the wall, he attaches a collar to Mesto’s neck, then hooks Cenar’s chain to it. Instead of unlocking Mesto’s chain from the wall, he walks out into the hallway. Another one of the guards there steps into the doorway, grabbing a small box that was attached to his belt. He raises the box before him, holding it out as if offering it to us. His thumb smashes down on the box and Mesto screams, eyes wide, body convulsing. An instant later Cenar drops to his knees, his deep rumbly voice screaming in pain.

“Stop it!” I scream, pain tearing through my chest, watching them suffer for no reason.

The guard with the box looks at me, grinning. The dreadlocks-like tentacles that serve as hair, each decorated with metal rings, clatter when he turns. A smile spreads across his grotesque face, his dead eyes shining with inner delight. He holds his thumb down longer, watching me. Hands balling into fists, I fight with every fiber of my being the instinct to go into action. Closing my eyes, I will my hands to unclench and my jaw to stop grinding.

When I open my eyes, he’s still staring at me with that nightmarish grin. At last, he lifts his thumb and the screams stop. Mesto and Cenar both drop to the floor, panting heavily. Mesto is whimpering in pain, Cenar suffers silently.

The guard with the box steps back out into the hallway. The first one returns and continues his work of placing collars on each of us and then attaching the other prisoners’ chains. When he comes to me, I meet his eyes and swear silently to myself that I will end him. Somehow, someday, I will destroy these evil bastards. Gershom had been my standard of bad but the Zzlo put him to shame. Gershom is power hungry, but underneath that he’s scared. I’ve always known that about him, which allowed me to be compassionate towards him. Looking in this monster’s eyes, I don’t see anything but emptiness. No pleasure, no joy, almost no life—nothing but pure empty evil.

The collar clicks around my neck with a soft snap that sounds much louder in my ears than it actually is. Focusing, I keep my breathing even, making myself appear calm despite the storm raging in my heart. He moves on to Visidion and attaches the final collar, then goes to stand with the other guards.

“Move,” one of them orders.

Cenar climbs to his feet, and then gives a hand to Mesto. He turns at last and walks. Two of the guards move back down the hall and the other two hold the chain leading all of us, pulling us along. My hopes of escape diminish. The chain gives them an edge that I hadn’t expected. I’m certain that it can kill us if they want. Heart sinking, I move forward, struggling to keep a glimmer of hope alive.