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  Even if the words were true, they did little to comfort her.

  * * * * *

  Stella winced with pain as the soldiers marched her down the empty corridor. Their gloved fingers dug into her bare arms, exacerbating her already painful bruises. She struggled to keep pace with them.

  Up ahead, the corridor ended in a T with another. The soldiers turned right, toward a dead end—no, a door.

  A door that could only be an airlock.

  Stella’s eyes widened, and fear shot through her like electricity. Kicking and screaming, she tried desperately to break free. She managed to kick the soldier on her left, breaking free of his grip. Before she could escape from the other, however, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her bodily off the floor. She thrashed about with her arms and legs, but he squeezed her stomach, making it difficult for her to breathe. Somewhere ahead she heard the hissing sound of the airlock door opening. A blast of cold air hit her bare skin.

  “No!” she screamed. “Not the airlock!”

  She managed to grab hold of the edge of the door as they dragged her in, but the soldiers easily pulled her loose. Together, they dumped her unceremoniously onto the cold metal floor. Before she could scramble to her feet, they were gone. The door hissed shut behind them.

  “No!” she screamed again, pounding on the door even though she knew they wouldn’t be able to hear her. Out of sheer terror, her muscles gave out and she collapsed on the floor. The air was cold and had a stale, coppery taste to it. She took in a deep breath and stared fearfully at the opposite door, fully aware that it could open at any time and send her flying naked into the void.

  It didn’t open, however. One moment passed into another, and nothing happened.

  Slowly, fearfully, she glanced around the room. Like most airlocks, it was small and windowless—the walls, floor, and ceiling were plain steel. The floor was cold to the touch and hard against her bare skin. She hugged her chest and shivered, then noticed a pile of burlap lying about an arm’s length away from her.

  Clothes? she wondered, picking it up. To her surprise, it was a one-piece tunic.

  She hesitated for only a second before putting it on. The fabric was rough against her skin, but that hardly mattered—after standing naked for so long, any sort of clothing was a comfort. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, taking a few moments to calm her troubled thoughts.

  So they’re not going to kill me, she realized. If they were, why give her clothing? No, they wanted her alive. But why?

  Ben. She had to find him—he could help her. But was he on this ship? He hadn’t been in the main hangar bay—hadn’t responded when she’d called out for him.

  A lump rose in her throat, but she forced it down. She couldn’t afford to let her emotions overwhelm her.

  Think. If they’d brought her to an airlock, they probably wanted to transfer her—send her to a new ship. Maybe the same ship as her brother? Her heart surged, but she shook her head. No, she couldn’t count on that.

  One thing was certain, though: She had to escape.

  She drew in a deep breath and stood up. Her legs were a bit shaky at first, but she soon recovered her strength.

  The only way out of this place was through the two doors on either side of the room. Stella tried the one she’d come in through, but it was locked from the outside. As for the other door, she had no desire to breathe vacuum, so she left it alone.

  They’re keeping me here, she realized—but why here in the airlock? Obviously, another ship was coming to pick her up—but where would it take her? The question gnawed at her brain, and she paced nervously across the floor. Within a short while, her feet were numb from the cold.

  Where had they taken her in the first place? Was she still in the Karduna system? If she could get to a window, she might be able to tell from the arrangement of the stars. As a little girl, she’d memorized all the home constellations and knew what they looked like when she was out of the system. As soon as she found a window, then, she had to get a good look at the stars.

  Thinking about the constellations made her think of home—of her mother and father, and James. Another lump rose in her throat, this one much harder to suppress. Were they all right? Had they survived the invasion? Or were they—

  No, she couldn’t allow herself to think about that now. Later—there would be time later. When she had a better idea where she was and what the Hameji had in store for her, she would plan her escape and get back to them. For now, though, all she could do was wait.

  Wait. Stella shivered and hugged her arms against her chest, sliding against the wall until she was sitting on the floor again. The burlap sack covered her body, but it offered her no warmth. If the Hameji kept her here much longer, she—

  The sound of metal groaning against metal jolted Stella out of her thoughts. The sound was close—close enough that the floor shook under her bare feet. They were coming.

  * * * * *

  Stella stood up straight and faced the airlock door as it slid open. Another pair of soldiers in fearsome black armor stepped forward. She cringed, expecting them to take her forcibly by the arms and march her off like the others. Instead, they moved aside, letting a short man dressed all in white step through.

  She frowned. What is this?

  The man gave her one look and clucked his tongue. “Too young,” he said in an almost incomprehensible accent. “Too young.”

  “What?” said Stella. She glanced up at the soldiers, but their faces were unreadable.

  The little man stepped forward and pinched her arm. “Ow!” she said, drawing back. He clucked again and put his hands on his hips.

  “You stay still. Yes? Good.”

  Stella stood awkwardly in the middle of the chilly airlock while he examined her, poking her stomach and feeling her hands and arms. His round head was balding on the top, with thick tufts of blackish-gray hair around his ears. He had a long scowl on his face, which from the deep creases in his skin appeared to be a permanent feature. Unlike the soldiers, he wore a crisp white button-up shirt that stretched nearly to his knees, like a formal smock. His loose fitting trousers were also white.

  “Not good, not good,” he said, shaking his head. “Need bath.”

  Stella glanced to the soldiers on either side of the doorway. I don’t suppose I have a choice, she thought to herself. For now, she’d play the Hameji at their game—with time, an opportunity for escape would present itself. Hopefully.

  “You follow me,” the man said. “Understand?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  The man looked her in the eye and scowled. Even though he stood nearly a full head shorter than her, she still felt intimidated by his gaze.

  “Come.”

  Despite his short stature, the man took off at a brisk pace and quickly disappeared around a corner. Stella found it difficult to keep up; fortunately, the soldiers didn’t force-march her. She supposed that was a sign that she’d moved up in the Hameji world.

  The main corridor was only twenty yards long—too short for the ship to be anything but a shuttle. So they’re transporting me somewhere, Stella thought to herself. If she could break through to the cockpit, there was a chance—but no, with the soldiers following her that would never work. Better ride it out and see where they took her.

  “Come here,” said the little man, motioning impatiently to an open door near the end of the corridor. Stella followed his lead and stepped into the passenger cabin.

  From her terrifying experience on the prisoner ship, she expected something drab and purely functional—an empty storage room, perhaps, or a simple holding cell. Certainly someplace more fit for cattle than for humans.

  Instead, she stepped into a room as luxurious as a private yacht. Soft, oversized blue and purple couches lined the room, each with dozens of silk-tasseled pillows and cushions strewn out across them. The walls were pure white with ornate gold trim reminiscent of the old baroque style of the first Gaian Empire. An enormous duraglass
window stretched from floor to ceiling on the opposite side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the starfield beyond.

  Stella froze in the doorway and stared in disbelief at the lavish accommodations. After the nightmare of the prisoner ship, she didn’t know what to make of her new surroundings. It felt surreal to her. The seats were so luxurious and soft, the purple and blue colors so rich, she felt as if she had found herself in a completely different world.

  “No good,” muttered the man, shaking droplets of sweet perfume on her body from a small crystal vial. “No good. Need bath soon—very dirty.”

  The accent. Where had she heard that accent before? The question had been bothering her since she’d first heard the man speak. In an instant, it came to her: the man was speaking Belarian. On her last voyage with the McLellan family, the entire crew had spoken it exclusively to help her practice the new language. The short, bald man’s accent had to have come from some local dialect in that system.

  “What is your name?” she asked in formal Belarian.

  The man froze where he stood and stared right at her. Stella met his gaze and smiled.

  A flood of words poured out of his mouth, only a few of which she fully understood. She could pick out a word here or there, but couldn’t understand any phrases or sentences. Eventually, the man noticed the blank expression on her face. He stopped and forced a smile, composing himself.

  “You are a smart girl,” he said in formal Belarian, slow enough that she could understand. “My name is Engus, and I am chief cut-servant of Master Qasar.”

  Cut-servant. The word itself was unfamiliar, but from simple cognates she pieced together the basic meaning. The root used for “cut” confused her at first, since it was only ever used in a physical sense; either Engus was a servant who cut things, or else had himself been—

  Realization of the true meaning of the word struck her like a meteor. Engus was a eunuch.

  “Sit, sit,” he said, reverting to broken New Gaian.

  Stella glanced around the room and gingerly lowered herself on the nearest couch. The cushions gave way, enveloping her in a softness so inviting she almost forgot the rough burlap tunic chafing against her skin. Even the guards kept a comfortable distance from her, standing at the door. Still, something seemed vaguely disturbing about this place. Her separation from the other prisoners, the extravagant luxury of the shuttle, the high-ranking servant sent as an escort—it made her feel uneasy.

  I’ve got to get out of here, she thought to herself, struggling to conceal her growing anxiety. With her thoughts once more centered on escape, her eyes gravitated to the starfield in the window. Despite the amazing view, it took her several moments before she found anything resembling the familiar constellations of home.

  Just as she found one that could have been the Snake, the sound of groaning metal came softly through the walls. The stars spun wildly as they undocked and maneuvered away from the Hameji prisoner ship, momentarily disorienting her. She looked for any sign of Kardunash IV—any planet at all—but saw nothing but stars and empty space.

  As she stared out the window, a strange feeling came over her, as if her body were turning inside out. The sensation was all too familiar. It started as a mild stomachache, but soon turned into a severe, disorienting dizziness, followed by an instant of total blackness, as if the universe itself had blinked.

  The shuttle had just made a jump. If Ben was back on the prisoner ship, he might be light-years away from her now.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice shaky.

  “Master’s house,” Engus said in broken New Gaian. “There. You look.”

  He pointed out the window at an enormous ship, long and tapering at the forward end like a missile. From a distance, it could have passed as a deep space passenger liner, but a close examination revealed several additions. Extra rooms bubbled outward, some containing gun emplacements, others antennae and other instruments. Though this may have been a passenger liner at one point, it was definitely a warship now.

  Ben, Stella thought frantically to herself. Where are you? As the Hameji warship loomed close outside the window, a terrible, heart-wrenching feeling told her that she wouldn’t find him here.

  They docked. Engus motioned to her.

  “You come,” he said.

  Chapter 2

  “Hey there,” said Petyr, stepping inside the narrow bunkroom. From where she lay, Stella said nothing and only stared at the underside of the bunk above her.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, kneeling beside her. She sighed and groaned inwardly as she realized he wasn’t going to let her ignore him.

  “Am I in trouble?” she asked.

  “Not at all—I just wanted to get something from my locker. You seem to be hanging out in the bunkroom a lot lately; what’s up?”

  You wouldn’t understand, Stella thought to herself, sulking more than a little. This is your family’s ship—you live here practically full-time.

  “Are you homesick?”

  The question hit her like a blow to the stomach. She moaned and turned her back to him, wishing he would leave. But of course, he wouldn’t.

  “Listen,” he said, “if it makes you feel better, I know how you feel. My first apprenticeship was on an interstellar passenger liner, and I was miserable for the first few months. It’s hard, leaving home for the first time.”

  Stella turned and glanced at him over her shoulder. He gave her a cheerful grin.

  “Would you like to know how to make it go easier?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Try to think of it like a game. How much can you accomplish in a day? Throw yourself into the work like you’d throw yourself into a VR simulator, and see if you can do better than you did the day before.”

  “How is that supposed to change anything?”

  “It doesn’t, really; just gives you a new perspective. But you’d be surprised how much of a difference that makes.”

  She stared at him for a moment, too tired or morose to make an argument. He extended a hand.

  “Come on; why don’t you give it a try? You’ll feel better for it, believe me.”

  Why not? Stella thought to herself. It wasn’t as if she had any alternatives that were any better.

  “All right,” she groaned, sitting up in her bunk. He smiled warmly as she took his hand.

  * * * * *

  Play the game, Stella told herself as she followed Engus through the airlock. She just had to keep her eyes open and wait for an opportunity to escape. She could do this.

  The shipside airlock was unusually narrow; Stella guessed it had originally been a utility airlock for exterior maintenance work. Considering how they’d put in towards the battleship’s stern, that made sense. Why they had taken her in this way instead of through the main docking bay, Stella had no idea.

  The soldiers‘ boots rapped sharply on the hard metal floor of the airlock. Engus keyed the inner door, and it hissed open.

  “You come,” he said.

  The moment Stella stepped through the doorway, a thick, sensuous odor hit her noise. It smelled like perfume mixed with something else too pungent to mask. The air was warm and humid; the moisture clung to her skin and made her feel sticky.

  To her surprise, the soldiers stayed behind. She wondered why that was, until she saw a handful of wires poking out of the wall where the airlock’s access panel was supposed to be. Whoever had modified that door had designed it to work only one way.

  Like a cage.

  She followed Engus down a corridor unlike any that she had ever seen. Red and pink silk draped the walls, their vibrant colors immediately attracting her eye. Golden tassels dangled from the ceiling, tracing geometric patterns in their design. A shaggy pink carpet covered the floor, tickling her bare feet. Yet for all the lavishness of the place, she couldn’t help but notice how kitschy and overdone it all was. The décor felt like a caricature of something feminine. The colors were too bright, the smells
too strong—even the shaggy carpet under her feet felt too sensual.

  She didn’t like it.

  Engus glanced over his shoulder and clucked disapprovingly. “Come!” he said. She walked a little faster, folding her arms as she followed him.

  They passed a handful of other men, all in button-up white shirts like Engus’s that extended well below the waist. Their clothes were so crisp and immaculate that Stella felt out of place in her burlap prisoner rags. The men bowed to Engus as they passed, and stared openly at Stella. Even though they were only servants, their stares made her anxious.

  If they are servants, she thought to herself, why are there so many of them? And who are they supposed to serve? For a moment, she wondered if Engus was taking her off to become a servant, too, but she soon dismissed the idea. All of the servants were men.

  She saw women soon enough, though.

  As they rounded a corner, a tall, dark-skinned girl walked past them in the opposite direction. Her skin was perfectly smooth, her body shaped like an exotic hourglass. Her hips swung from side to side as she walked, jingling coins along the fringes of her clothing. She wore a skimpy, two-piece dress, the fabric all but transparent, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  Stella stopped and watched in horror as the girl sauntered away. An awful, sinking feeling ate away at the back of her mind as she realized.

  “You come,” said Engus, pointing impatiently to a bead curtain draped over an open doorway.

  I just need to stay here long enough to find a way to escape, Stella thought to herself as he parted the beads and led her through. I won’t be here forever.