Page 63 of Bound

“If the resistance will help us, and if helping us helps others,” Chrissie says quietly, “then it’s fine, Rych. We should let them.”

“I don’t want to replace one regime with another,” I respond. “I don’t want Maxym and Klynn to be in any worse situation than they already are.” I glare at Fenek. “Because power isn’t all, but some believe it is.”

“The resistance is not after power. They just want Trefa to be fair, for those who are repressed to be free, for those who are enslaved to be free. They don’t want to rule, they just want those who rule to rule for all.”

“Because you can’t remove the gak from the rest of the cesspit?” I retort.

Fenek shrugs. “Something like that.” His scales flush with color. “But surely Tatatunga being better is preferable to how it is now?”

“Rych,” Chrissie says quietly. “You know what this place is like. I think better is an improvement.”

I lift my lips in a snarl at Fenek, as if he’s the source of all my pain. “I want revenge on the Drahon. They know what I was before I ended up here. They’re responsible. I can’t promise there will be no violence for what they have done to me and my mate.”

“And the resistance will not want such a promise.”

“Because I am a weapon?”

“Something like that.”

Fenek’s smile has morphed into what I remember, shrewd and knowing. It’s my turn to feign indifference.

“It’s not like I haven’t already been used by Tatatunga. It was supposed to have brought me great wealth. Instead it led me to my sweet Chrissie.” I drop my head to hers, extracting the gentlest of kisses. “If using me helps her, it’s all I want.”

“Then they’re waiting for you down below,” Fenek says.

“My little spark.” I gaze into Chrissie’s beautiful face. “We have to go. Can you walk?”

“I can.” She unfolds herself from my grasp and gets to her feet.

The medi-bot comes to life, moving towards us. I pull out my sword.

“The patient must rest. The virus is multiplying,” it says.

“Fuck that. I’m not resting unless I’m dead,” she retorts, putting a hand on my abdomen, warmth blooming under her touch.

“And anything which wants to kill you will have to go through me.”

CHRISSIE

Rych’s absolute belief in himself, in his desire for revenge, in his desire to keep me safe, gives me strength. I want to be there for him. I don’t want to let this virus beat me.

And I want to get the creatures who hurt him, who hurt Fenek, and who hurt the other two gladiators. It seems like revenge can drive us all.

Holding onto my massive gladiator, who most definitely enjoys my proximity, his feathers shivering, we make our way down to the main living area. There’s the sound of voices from behind the door, and Rych draws his sword again, pushing me behind him as we enter.

The voices fall silent. I move out from a great wing to see a motley collection of aliens who are gazing at Rych.

“Gladiator,” a large male Voltes growls.

He very nearly loses his head. Rych is on him in a nano-second, sword raised as the pair of them tumble over the furniture and end up on the floor, his blade at the Voltes’ throat.

“You,” Rych snarls, “get out.”

“Gryn.” An Oykig female moves forward. “We are not your enemy.”

“This one is,” Rych says, his voice deep and dangerous.

“We met a Voltes who tried to hand us over to the Drahon,” I say by way of explanation. “A female called Red.”

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