Page 4 of Claimed By the Orc

Okay, not ideal, but I can salvage this.Deliberately optimistic, I did my best to look professional, sincere, and non-threatening.

“Hey, let go of me.” I tried to make that a calm command, but it came out closer to a desperate plea. “Look, I’m press. I’m withAlien Arenas,just trying to make a living. You can look through my pics, delete anything you don’t want published.”

Which is the only reason I carried a camera. My cybernetic eyes took all the photos I wanted, and I could give up the camera without worrying about what I’d lose. Unfortunately, the alien didn’t play along with my clever ruse. He ignored everything I said and pulled me back into the center of the hold.

I stumbled along behind him along a narrow path between two walls of stolen cargo. Underfoot, the metal decking creaked as I struggled to pull away. Stains and rust marked the deck as well as the walls, and the cargo was no better. These thugs weremaking insane amounts of money while spending nothing on maintaining their ship.

A glance at my captor showed where his share of the money went—his clothes dripped with ill-considered finery. Gold chains jangled at his neck, platinum piping down the sleeves of his stained velvet coat, gem-studded piercings on his face. He looked like a man who’d heard of taste, and murdered the person who mentioned it.

“Captain,” he called out as we emerged from the cramped cargo hold and into a room set up for the crew’s recreation. Three people looked up from a table set with a complicated game featuring holograms, cards, and knives.

The three couldn’t have been more different. A portly Akedian who looked like a waxwork left in the summer sun looked around at me, scratching under his silver-gray hair. Across from him lounged two I recognized from the arena. The first was a Prytheen warrior, her blue skin covered in tattoos. And I mean covered: she proved that by wearing gun belts and little else. She curled up against an Arisran male, tall and red-skinned, winding white horns framing a cold, hard face. A demon in the flesh, he peered at me over the papers he’d been reading while the others played.

Those two I recognized from the arena. At least it confirmed I was in the right place.

“What is it, Fenx?” he asked, voice a harsh rasp. Cold eyes flicked across me, assessing and judging. I shivered, my blood suddenly running ice cold. “Where’d you find that?”

“In the cargo hold,” my captor said, shoving me forward. “Taking pictures of the Orc, uh, colony. Figured I should ask you before I slit her throat.”

The captain’s laugh was anything but comforting. “Seems like you’ve made a mistake, girl. Air costs money, so does food.Got a reason I shouldn’t put you out the airlock and save some credits?”

“You’ve not even taken off yet,” I protested. “Just put me ashore now, and I’ll give you a glowing review, okay?”

“Ah, so you’re press.” The Arisran shook his head. “Not a great start, I’ll be honest—I value my privacy. What else do you have?”

The Prytheen’s narrowed eyes warned me away from a path I had no intention of trying.Back off,her look said.He’smymeal ticket.

I wanted to laugh. Like throwing myself at a smuggler, slaver, and crime boss was in any way a good idea, even without a jealous girlfriend in the mix. Laughing at her seemed like an even worse idea, though, so I kept my calm and tried to think.

“If you don’t want me to write about you, no problem. I’ll write what you want about someone else, keep your name out of it.” That had to be worth something, I thought, and the captain’s eyes lit up.

“That has potential,” he said, stroking his chin. “But how can I be sure you’ll go through with it?”

“You can’t, boss,” the Prytheen interjected. “She’d say anything to keep herself alive.”

What the fuck’s your problem, lady?It didn’t help that she was right. I’d make the deal happily, but only to get out alive. Once I was away from the pirates? Fuck these guys.

Before I could figure out a way to convince him, an unpleasant, predatory grin spread across her features. “But you know what? You promised Gragash a treat, and you know how much he hates journos. I think he’ll enjoy tearing her limb from limb, and it’ll save a day or two of food rations for him. Keeping him fed is expensive.”

The captain’s smile was ice cold as he nodded once, quick and decisive. “Fenx, Brish, take her upstairs and throw her to the Orc.”

He wasn’tin the cargo holds at all. Fenx, the asshole wearing all the gold, dragged me up into the crew levels of the ship, now accompanied by the Akedian, who had to be Brish. Neither answered my questions, and when I tried to pull away, Brish pulled a shock-prod from his belt. The crackle of energy when he activated it put a stop to my thoughts of escape.

Perhaps it’s all an act? If they’re keeping him up here, in an officer’s cabin, maybe the brutal barbarian is a stage persona?I almost laughed at the idea, and at the image it conjured. Gragash, mighty Orc warrior, lounging around a luxurious room wearing a smoking jacket and puffing on a pipe. Not speaking to anyone in public because he wasn’t able to hide his posh accent.

I wished I could believe it, but no. Even before we reached the hatch, I knew fate wouldn’t be so kind.

Battered out of shape, fist-sized dents marked the metal, making the hatch squeal as Fenx slid it open. The dents came frominside, and looking at the inch-thick steel of the hatch, I shivered at the strength that must have taken. What lay beyond just added to the icy fear running through my veins.

The stateroom was, for a spaceship, huge. Big enough that shadows hid most of it, the light spilling past us the only source of illumination other than the distant stars beyond a viewport. This had to be the owner’s cabin, or perhaps theBlessingonce carried wealthy passengers from star to star. The walls were asumptuous shade of purple, though often discolored by fire or blood. Luxurious furnishings made from genuine wood—I could tell from the broken remnants of what remained of a bed—lay in pieces, piled up against the wall. My feet sank into a soft carpet, thicker than some mattresses I’d slept on.

A few steps into the room, heavy metal bars blocked our way. Crudely welded, thick as my wrist, they stretched floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall, turning most of the stateroom into a cell capable of holding a monster. The only break in the cage was a barred door set into them.

My captors both hesitated before approaching the bars, though there was no sign of life in the gloom beyond. Heart racing, I held back too, only for Fenx to shove me roughly against the cold iron of the bars.

“Wake up, Gragash. The captain has a treat for you.” Brish ran his shock-prod back and forth along the bars, clattering loud enough to wake the dead. Inside the cell,somethingmoved.

I heard it more than saw it, theclinkof chains shifting, a creak as the Orc’s weight shifted. My captors stepped back from the cage at once. A shadow moved in the gloom, barely visible buthuge. In the arena, Gragash looked big. Now I realized I’d underestimated his size.

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