This is the first book of the Tian and Brent trilogy, when Tian and Brent first meet on a space station. She’s an Imperial agent, he’s a space jockey with a freighter and a pile of debt.
The noise in the bar swirled around Brent Walker like a storm. Highs and lows, shrills and flats, all meaningless sounds mixing with the cocktail of stale beer and the unmistakable tang of carra weed. Swallowing the last of his beer, he shoved himself to his feet. There was no point in staying here. In fact, he’d better get Vagabond out of the space station before the station master impounded her. His stomach lurched at the thought of losing his ship. Blast Narvak. Brent had only been an hour late, bugger all in the scheme of things. But Narvak didn’t wait for anybody.
Brent sidled past a group of half-drunk miners. One of them had a girl sitting on his knee, his gaze fixed on her tits. Huh. Brent would have been doing the same thing if he’d had the credits. Oh well. At least Vagabond had sexcapades in her database. The two Yrmak bouncers eyed him as he slipped past them into the street.
Outside the air was cooler, even here in the middle of the station, which said more about the heating level in the bar than the air circulation system. Brent trudged off toward the transit which would take him to the distant docking bay where Vagabond and the other tramp haulers were located. The street was virtually empty in this industrial part of town. The din from the tavern he’d just left subsided to a drone when he went around a corner. Warehouses huddled together, virtually hanging over the street, the peeling facades and faded signs a testament to the times. A streetbot beeped toward him, gathering up the litter. Brent stepped around the machine and was about to walk on when he heard someone trying to stifle a cry of pain. He hesitated for a nanosecond, then moved on. Not his business. He had his own problems. He’d taken two paces before another sound jerked him to a halt.
That splat was fist on flesh. The woman’s cry of pain was bitten off. A male voice growled, the tone threatening. He knew that scenario all too well, listening to his father beating up his mother. Anger twisted his gut as the images surfaced; the bruises on his mom’s face, the cut lip, the broken ribs. He’d been small then, too small to help. But he wasn’t now. Brent let his ears lead him to the narrow alley between two buildings he’d just passed.
In the shadows he made out a hulking figure standing over someone on the ground. “On yer feet, bitch. And don’t try that again.”
The figure on the ground stirred.
“Hurry up. I ain’t got all night.”
The man didn’t move, but the woman whimpered as she struggled to all fours, her hair hanging over her face. He chuckled. “Hurts, dunnit?”
Fury raged up Brent’s gut. Bastard. Gutless wonder. “Let her be, asshole.”
The man whirled, his left hand clenched. “Mind yer own business, buddy. She’s a prossy. I paid for her, so she does what she’s told.”
Brent couldn’t see the man’s eyes in the dimness but he swayed on his feet and his words were slightly slurred, even if they were delivered with threat.
“I don’t care what she is. She doesn’t deserve to be beaten up by a person twice her size.” The girl was on her feet now. The top of her head barely made the punter’s shoulder.
Raising a fist the size of a ham, the man lurched forward, his lips curled into a snarl. “Get lost, hero.”
The girl dived, tackling the fellow around the knees. Brent leaped aside as the man crashed down past him. A sharp crack punctuated the splat of his body hitting the ground.
Oh damn. That didn’t sound good. Brent knelt beside him, groping for a pulse. Nothing. His heart hammered. All of a sudden losing his ship wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” The girl stood beside him, her chest heaving.
Brent rose to his feet. “Yes, he’s dead.”
She nodded. “Can’t say I’m sorry.” She bent down and took a device from the dead fingers, a short silver cylinder. “We’d better get out of here before anyone else turns up.”
That sounded like an excellent idea.
“You’ll be okay then?”
She flashed a look at him. “I’m not a prossy, whatever it looks like. At least, I was forced to do it. Can you get me out of here?” She didn’t say ‘please’ but the word hung in the air between them, her eyes begging, her lips parted.
Damnit. How did he manage to do that? Now he had a liability. But what the hell. He was clearing out, anyway. “I’m getting off planet.”
“Suits me.” Resting a hand on his arm, she added, “I owe you.”
What was that? An offer of payment in kind? He looked her over properly, taking in her black hair, dark skin, dark eyes, one of them starting to close from the swelling on her cheek. She wore a close-fitting thigh-high skirt, a halter-necked top and boots with heels so high she might be short of oxygen. Dressed like a tart, even if she claimed she wasn’t one. Maybe he’d got lucky for a change. “Yeah well. We’ll see.”
He urged her back into the street, where he set an even pace, a couple of people in no great hurry, but with somewhere to go. The mix of voices and music became louder as they approached another tavern. Three men coming toward them all showed signs of a long night. One of them leered at the girl. Brent put his arm around her and pulled her against his side, and the trio ambled past. She slotted in nicely beside him. He hoped she had offered payment in kind. Losing Narvak’s job wouldn’t be so awful after all. Come on, Walker. She’s just been bashed by an ugly bruiser, and all you can think of is screwing her.
He cleared his throat. “What was going on back there?”
“He wanted to take me back to his hotel. He said the bed in my room wasn’t suitable. I’m not sure why, but any reasons I can come up with aren’t attractive. Anyway, he was so drunk I thought I might be able to escape, so I ducked down the alley. I hoped he’d come after me and try to grab me. I could handle that.” She raised her hand to a dull metal collar around her neck. “But he used his controller. Press a button and it’s like having a nerve whip applied to your neck. And then he slapped me around.”
Brent suppressed a shudder. He’d had a touch-up with a nerve whip a year or so ago, in a barroom brawl. And that had been mild. Just the thought had his nerves tingling. “The controller. That was the thing you took away from him?”
She stepped out of his grip, her eyes wary. “That’s right.”
He stopped and raised his hands, palms out. “Don’t worry. I’m not into kinky. Or cruelty. I like my sex partners to be willing and engaged.”
Dressed like a tart, sure, but didn’t act like one, didn’t move like one. Sexual slavery happened, pirates collecting women and selling them to brothels. It was none of his business, and he wasn’t stupid enough to mess with the people whose business it was. But he sure didn’t like it. He had two sisters and just the idea of them ending up like this was enough to make him see red. Maybe this was one woman where he could make a difference, at least get her out of here.
“Look, my ship’s down on deck J. I can take you to somewhere else. Gujarat?”
She almost sagged, the tension draining away from her shoulders. “Thanks. Gujarat’s fine. But first I have to get this thing off.” She fingered the collar.
“Sure. No problem. I’ve got tools on my ship.”
She shook her head. “This thing is monitored from a control room at the brothel where I worked. If I get too far away from it, the collar will contract and kill me. The man who runs the place took pleasure in telling me that, and I’ve no reason to doubt it.”
“But you’ve got the controller.”
“It’s a short range device to inflict pain. But it can’t remove the collar. That can only be done at the brothel.”
Shit. That would take time. Time he didn’t have. Come midnight, they’d impound his ship. In less than an hour. She stared at him. Worried.
Damnit. “What needs to happen?”
“We need to break in and disable this thing. Then it should come off.”
Break in? Oh, damn it, he didn’t have time.
She put her hands out. “What’s the issue? Please?”
If he didn’t get out now… He’d used the money he’d earned at Laremenssa to pay Giselle’s tuition fees. He’d been counting on Narvak’s advance to pay the station docking dues. I could find another job. Pterpix always needs somebody to run shitrack. Maybe he’ll advance me enough to get my ship out of here.
He gazed into eyes narrowed with concern. His ship wasn’t her problem. He couldn’t leave her here with that slave collar around her neck, like some sort of pet dog. No, not a pet. You wouldn’t treat a pet like that. He’d work something out. “No problem. Where do we go?”
Her shoulders sagged and the tension drained from her face. “This way.” She led him to the next corner, then turned down a side street lined with apartment blocks.
The girl leaned close to him, resting her hand on his shoulder. Her hair tickled his cheek. “You’re a punter. Act the part,” she whispered.
He could do that. He put his arm around her, her breast pressing lightly against him. Payment in kind dangled before his fevered imagination. Down boy. “What’s your name?”
“Tian. You?”
“Brent.”
They passed a restaurant where the proprietor was closing up, bringing tables and chairs inside. A smell of spicy food lingering in the air reminded Brent he was hungry. That would have to wait, too. There were more people here, mostly males going to or from one of the many brothels in this area. You could take your choice. The Red Garter, Hotlips, Ranch Raunchy. Spruikers stood outside, enticing punters with special offers.
“Which one?” Brent asked.
“It’s a special, private place off the main drag. Kinky.” Tian steered him around a corner into a street lined with neat apartment blocks. A red sign hanging on a building a hundred meters away added a subtle splash of color to the station’s regular night time lighting.
Brent stopped and leaned closer to her, his lips near her ear. “How do we play this? Where’s the control room?”
“Behind the counter in the foyer. We’ll have to get past the duty manager.”
“Just one man? Human?”
“Yes, but he can summon a squad of Yrmaks at the press of a button.”
Brent’s heart sank. Yrmaks. The big, scaly aliens were the go-to heavies for the well-off mobster. “Better be sure he doesn’t press the button, then.”
The word Inferno hung over a glossy black door. Discreet and classy. Brent would never have tried his luck here.
“How did that ugly bruiser get in here?” he whispered.
“All you need is credits and an appointment.”
Credits. The answer to just about anything.
Tian pushed a slim card into a slot beside the door, which slid aside. Brent’s heart beat a little harder as the foyer was revealed: white-tiled floor, two black couches, elegant pots planted with ferns, color-coordinated art works. A punter sat loose-limbed and relaxed on one of the couches. He looked like a happy chappy waiting for transport to take him somewhere else. The sooner the better, or even earlier than that would be good.
The man sitting behind the reception desk wore a well cut suit, but the material strained around his shoulders. Brent hoped there wasn’t a fight because if there was, he’d lose.
Tian tugged Brent’s hand and muttered, “Play it by ear.”
Brent let her lead him inside, under the stare of the man sitting behind the desk.
The manager’s smile faded and his eyes narrowed. “This isn’t the one you left with.”
Tian licked her lips. “He handed me over.”
Taking his cue, Brent said, “My mate was too drunk to stand, let alone fuck. Wouldn’t be right to waste her, now would it?” As he spoke Brent felt around behind Tian’s back for the controller. If the fellow asked for that, he’d better be the one to produce it. Warm metal pressed into his questing fingers.
The proprietor looked down his nose, staring at Brent. “You have the controller?” The words were polite, but with a hint of menace.
Grinning, Brent waved the cylinder. The man’s smile was more like a sneer.
A movement behind him sent a shiver of alarm down Brent’s spine, but it was only the outside door opening. A cab driver stepped inside. “Somebody want a cab?”
“Yeah.” The punter on the couch pushed himself to his feet and shuffled toward the door, the concierge watching his every move.
One down, one to go. Brent shoved the controller into his pocket and closed his fingers around his pistol’s grip, willing the fellow to leave, while Tian pretended to press the call button for the lift.
The outside door closed. Brent turned, pulled the gun and fired in one practiced movement. The manager’s body jerked, then slumped and fell, the chair clattering to the ground with him. Brent’s heart hammered. If anybody had heard… he shifted, back to the wall, looking around, the gun poised in his hand.
Tian stooped to frisk the fallen man’s pockets. She straightened, carrying a keycard in one hand and a pistol in the other. “How long will he be out?”
“A good hour. And after that he’ll — ”
She nodded. “He’ll feel sick for a while.” Ignoring him she pushed the card into the slot in the door behind the reception desk. It clicked and rolled aside. Tian took one step forward, then jerked backwards, her hands to her neck. “Shit.”
“What’s happening?”
“I can’t go in there. You’ll have to do it.”
“Me? What do I know about slave controllers?”
She motioned with her hand. “It can’t be that hard. Even he can do it.” She glanced at the manager’s body.
Shit. This gig was getting worse and worse and time was slipping by. Brent stepped around the guard’s console, registering an array of small pictures, some moving, some not. Brent glanced at them for long enough to realize they were vids in each of the brothel’s rooms. Maybe they were there so the manager could check on the girls’ safety. But Brent would bet his ship the owner sold these on the porn market, too.
Brent stepped into little more than a cupboard lined with anonymous controllers, many with blinking red or green lights. He examined the contraption, turning it over in his hand. One end had the button that caused the pain, with next to it a small blue light that he guessed meant it was on. What now? If this thing was voice controlled, he’d be in trouble, but a lot of these devices weren’t. It saved on maintenance. The light on the box in the corner glowed a steady blue, like the one on the controller, and different from all the others. It was somewhere to start.
He pressed the button marked ‘menu’ to display a list of functions on the wall above the unit. He read through the list, selecting ‘unlock’. Nothing happened.
Blast and be damned. He didn’t want to be here. This was all too hard. “Unlock doesn’t work,” he called to Tian. “Any other ideas?”
“Is there a receiver somewhere? Something you can slide it into?”
Shoving down his impatience, Brent looked for a cradle, a slot, an opening. Below the blue light he spied a hole where someone had crudely added red lines to suggest a woman’s privates. Shaking his head, he slotted the cylinder home. The blue light flashed. Bingo.
“Hurry, somebody’s coming,” Tian muttered.
Brent glanced over his shoulder while his heart rate ratcheted up. She’d ducked behind the counter, next to the duty manager’s prone body. Made clumsy by haste he fumbled for the ‘unlock’ command on the tools menu and pressed it just as the external door opened.
He stepped back into the foyer, closing the door behind him. Tian crouched at his feet. A well-dressed, bright-eyed youth with the formal, shaped beard that was all the fashion at the moment stepped inside. Probably straight off a freighter and anxious to get his rocks off. Oh well. Too bad, kid. Brent lifted his gun and fired. The blast hit the punter in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards.
Tian rose to her feet, the collar in her hand, gazing at the body lying on the white tiles like a discarded toy. “You don’t mess around, do you?”
“Not when I’m faced with somebody who could recognize me in a line-up. Come on, let’s get out of here. My ship’s on J level.”
Dark eyes stared into his soul. Brent was pretty sure she knew what J level meant. The slums of the shipyard. She hesitated for a moment, her hand on the door. He braced himself for questions, insults, but she said, “Let’s do the punter thing again, okay?”
“Okay by me.” Maybe he’d get payment in kind later on. Although the sores on her neck bothered him, as did the bruising around her eye.
As soon as they were outside she slipped an arm around his waist, but while she walked close beside him, there was no warmth, no teasing, her body tense. He put his arm around her shoulders and leaned close to whisper as they walked. “Did you take it off to sleep? The collar thing?”
Her lips stretched into a grimace. “I couldn’t take it off for anything.”
What could he say? “Um. Glad I could help.”
“Yeah. Me too. And I mean that.” Her arm tightened around his waist. “Let’s try a bit of a cuddle while those Yrmaks get past us.”
He hadn’t even seen them coming. They appeared from around a corner, their short-barreled weapons clutched in their claws, their boots ringing on the walkway. His heart thudding, he tried a tentative smooch, brushing her lips with his while his arm locked around her shoulders, high up so the marks on her neck wouldn’t show. He needn’t have bothered. They hurried past on some mission of their own.
Tian pulled away. “Let’s go. They’re on their way to the brothel.”
“What makes you think that?”
She glared at him. “Places like that have a call-in system. If the security people don’t get a regular contact, they come looking.” She dragged him into an alley and hissed, “Follow me. I know some shortcuts.”
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