Spaceport: Oculus IX—Deep in Waxian controlled territory.

The sound of cruel laughter pierced the periphery of Edge’s consciousness. He wanted to fight the darkness, but it had become a welcome haven against the constant pain wracking his body. Despite his feelings of shame at his weakness, Edge knew he would court any brief respite from the agony ripping apart his mind and body. His head felt as if it might explode after the relentless inquisition he had just survived.

He wasn’t sure ‘survive’ was the correct word. His mind was fragmented, his thoughts flashing at a nauseatingly rapid rate where one thought would start to form, only to be replaced with another in a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors that left him weak and disoriented. Whatever drugs his captors had pumped into him this time had come all too close to breaking the fragile control he had on his mind.

“Did you see the blood coming out of his nose this time? I swear I thought I could smell the bastard’s brain frying,” the guard gripping his left arm chuckled.

“We’re just lucky Deppar had us double strap him or we’d all be dead,” the guard on his right retorted.

“What are you talking about? I was expecting him to cry like a baby this time,” the first guard replied with another laugh.

“I hope you know that you are going to be the first one he kills if he ever gets loose,” the second guard muttered. “Open his cell door.”

Edge heard another guard mumble something under his breath before the sound of metal scraping against stone screeched through the air. A groan mixed with the sound. It took a moment for Edge to realize the sound was coming from himself. Every sound was amplified in his head, causing sharp, excruciating pain to ricochet through his skull.

“He’s drooling,” the first guard chortled. “Next thing you know, he’ll be pissing his pants. He can’t even lift his head or keep the spit in his mouth. You really think he could fight me?”

“I heard Deppar is tired of dealing with him,” the cell guard said as the first two guards dragged Edge through the doorway and dropped him to the cell floor. “Talk is that he has called in someone else to retrieve the information. I heard another Waxian wants all the knowledge the prisoner has about the Trivator forces and their technology. This Waxian is supposed to be working with the Drethulans. If he is, he’s a crazy bastard. You couldn’t pay me to have a Drethulan at my back. I doubt this Trivator will survive long once they get ahold of him.”

“What could the Trivator know? He’s been held captive for too long to have any current information of use. If you ask me, this other Waxian or the Drethulans should have gotten to him before he was sold to the mines,” the first guard retorted before he spit on the floor near Edge’s head. “Between working the mines and the drugs Deppar used on him, there isn’t much left of the bastard’s brain to interrogate. Deppar should just kill the big bastard now before he gets loose.”

“Well, they didn’t ask you,” the second guard grumbled as he left the cell. “You’re a grunt and grunts do what they are told. We keep our mouths shut if we want to get paid and live to spend it. Now, come on, I’m ready for some food.” The cell door closed with a clang, and the sound of the cell guard locking it was loud in the small corridor. “That reminds me, Deppar said no food or drink for the prisoner. He wants him as weak as possible for the Waxian’s visit,” the second guard informed the cell guard.

“I haven’t fed him anyway. They don’t give us enough food, so I’ve been eating what they sent down. It all tastes like shit anyway,” the cell guard muttered.

Edge rolled over in the narrow, dark cell as the guards continued to talk. A shiver ran through him as the toxic dregs of the drugs the Waxian had pumped into him seeped through his pores. He fought against the urge to throw up. The trembling in his body increased as the chill from the cold floor soaked into his sweat-dampened skin.

“Goddess, give me death,” Edge whispered, hoping she would be merciful and grant him his wish.

“Like hell. You can’t die now that I’ve found you, Trivator. I need you alive,” a soft voice answered.

* * *

Lina Daniels peered through the narrow openings in the wall grill near the cell’s filthy floor. Ever since she had overheard two men in the market talking about a Trivator, she had been searching for the alien warrior. It had taken her a day to discover where they were holding him. Then, almost another week to figure out a way in and out of the building. The last thing she wanted was to end up either in the cell with him or on the dinner table as the main course for the alien bastards holding him captive.

This tiny shithole of a cell had been the last on her checklist for the day. She had come up empty handed with her search of the other cells, and this one was empty too. She had been about to give up and had even started to scoot back down the drainage channel when she heard footsteps approaching and recognized one of the men’s voices from the market.

Holding her breath, she waited to see what they would do. She was rewarded for her patience when the door opened. The man she’d been searching for was being dragged in by his arms by two guards. She watched with a combination of satisfaction and disgust as they dropped him to the floor.

The man was definitely a Trivator! She silently studied him while the guards talked. Personally, she didn’t give a damn what his species or the Earth’s government had said about the aliens responding to her planet’s transmissions into space. As far as she was concerned, the Trivators and the Alliance had invaded Earth.

The resulting fallout had been devastating for humans. Her life and that of millions of others had gone to hell in a matter of hours. She’d spent the last decade since that unforgettable day fighting to free her fellow humans from the aliens and as well as from other humans.

It didn’t help when memories of being sold by one of her own species filled her mouth with a bitter taste. She wanted to return to Earth so she could kill Colbert Allen. Who the hell cared that revenge was a bad idea? She’d had a lot of bad ideas in her lifetime and would deal with the consequences just as she always had—with a fight.

Lina ground her teeth to keep the curse from passing her lips. She wanted to tell the three guards to finish up with their sadistic enjoyment and get out. Now that she’d found what she’d been looking for, she had work to do.

It’s about freakin’ time, she savagely thought when the door finally closed behind the sadistic trio.

Returning her focus to the man in the cell, she watched as he rolled until he was facing the wall and unknowingly her. The grim satisfaction that coursed through her at the success of her mission was quickly replaced with a punch to the stomach as instant recognition hit her. Dark, painful memories threatened to choke her. Blood, pain, and despair flooded her as a vision of him standing over a lifeless body ripped her back to the past.

Deeply shaken, she closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. There was no room for her personal feelings. Whether she liked it or not, she needed this man regardless of who he was or the painful memories that he awoke inside her.

Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, she focused on her mission. This was not just about her. If it had been, she would have been tempted to help the Waxian with killing the Trivator.

At least, she reasoned, I would be the more merciful killer. It might still come to that if he doesn’t know how to fly a spaceship, she thought.

“Goddess, give me death,” he murmured.

Lina froze when she heard his barely audible mumble. A surprising rage swept through her unlike anything she had ever felt before—well, almost anything. She was reserving that little dose of overwhelming rage for Colbert Allen. Still, the words were like kerosene on an open flame to her. She totally ignored the fact that she had thought about killing him less than a second before.

“Like hell. You can’t die now that I’ve found you, Trivator. I need you alive,” Lina hissed out.

In the darkness, she could barely make out that his body had stiffened in surprise. Muttering a series of expletives under her breath, Lina felt along her side for the pocket of her pants. Slipping her hand inside, she pulled out a tiny red light and turned it on. Inserting it between the gaps of the grill, she got her first good look at the Trivator’s face.

She drew in a deep, unsteady breath as the past and present collided again in her mind. There were two things which immediately caught and held her attention. First, he looked like shit. Second, she was surprised by the wave of compassion she felt when she saw the pain etched into his features.

“You were on Earth,” she stated, unsure of what else to say.

“Yes,” came his hoarse response.

“Can you fly one of those spaceships they’ve got here?” she demanded, forcing him to focus on her when his head started to roll back.

“Yes,” he replied.

Lina’s lips twisted and her fingers tightly gripped the light. She drew in another deep breath and wished she could just leave his ass here, but his admission sealed his fate as far as she was concerned. He knew where Earth was, and he could fly. She needed him alive.

“I’ll be back. Don’t you fucking die or get yourself killed before I do,” she ordered.

Sliding backwards, Lina knew she didn’t have much time. She was also going to need some help. As much as she hated endangering any of the other women who had escaped with her, she didn’t have much choice in the matter. She couldn’t haul this guy out on her own, and he didn’t look like he was in any shape to walk, much less run.

She carefully retraced her steps, mentally adjusting her plans to get the warrior out of the building. As difficult a puzzle as the problem was, what worried her most was what to do after she got him out. There were too many variables once they were outside among the rest of the inhabitants on the Spaceport, and there were only so many places you could hide on a small rock in space.