Split Preview: Chapters 1-3

CHAPTER 1
Most of the villagers had never even seen a starship before. Not up close, anyway. Only bright specks of light moving high above the badlands on their way to the trade depots at Jeriko, Haazor, and Ai. Those flying machines never stopped at the village. They never had any reason to.

Until now.

Rona Gideon stood in the doorway of her hovel and watched the ship make its quiet descent, a big armored warbird gliding down out of the dirty sky on matte-black wings. Rona wasn’t alone in her watching. The whole village had come out to bear witness to the offworlder’s arrival. She could hear her neighbors murmuring to each other, their voices a mix of hope and apprehension.

Help had finally come.

But what manner of help, and at what cost?

As the ship came in closer, Rona lifted a hand to shield her eyes against the sun, and she studied the underside of the vessel. It was hard to judge the exact size of the thing, but she guessed it was bigger than any building in the village, with the exception of the Common Hall. Mean-looking tri-barreled guns were mounted beneath the wings, and closer in, nestled against the ribs of the fuselage, were racks of deadly missiles and bombs.

But the deadliest weapons of all, Rona knew, were the ones inside the ship. The ones manning the controls. The ones looking out through the deeply tinted windows of the cockpit.

Looking, perhaps, at her.

She shivered.

The ship was only about twenty yards up now. The ventral thrusters kicked on, sending up swirling plumes of dust that came billowing over the village like a miniature sandstorm. Rona retreated back into the dim confines of her hovel, letting the heavy curtain of her door fall closed behind her, blocking out both daylight and dust. Her heart was slamming hard in her chest.

The Mercs had arrived.

CHAPTER 2
The Common Hall was a big circular building slapped together out of disused pieces of mining equipment and corroded slabs of sheet metal. From the outside, it looked like a huge pile of trash. The inside wasn’t much better. There was standing room on the raw dirt floor below, with bench seats along the walls, and a precarious balcony running all the way around the upper level.

Rona had chosen to observe the proceedings from the balcony. Rickety though it may have been, it was still preferable to being down there in that crush of bodies on the ground level. Not that there was much more breathing room up here in the balcony. It was a full house tonight, and the hall was hot and muggy from the hundreds of sweating bodies crammed inside. Smelly too. Seemed like the whole damn village was here tonight, mostly men, but with a few women scattered throughout the crowd as well.

“They’re coming!” someone shouted near the entrance. “The Mercs are coming...!”

Rona ran her grimy fingers through her close-cropped hair and sighed. About damn time, she thought. The ship had landed while the sun was still in the sky. Since then, nightfall had come and gone, and the villagers had been packed inside the Common Hall for hours, awaiting the Mercs’ arrival. People had started getting restless. Fights had broken out. Busted lips. Broken noses. Nothing too serious.

“Hey there, sweetcheeks.”

Rona simultaneously flinched at the gravelly voice in her ear and cringed at the reek of rotten breath that accompanied it. She’d been so engrossed by the goings-on down below, she'd failed to notice the huge, sweaty miner who had sidled up next to her at the railing.

She certainly noticed him now. In particular, she noticed his big, meaty hand squeezing her butt through her jeans, its callused fingers delving precariously close to her other, more sensitive places.

Rona didn’t bother pulling away from him. She couldn’t in this crowd. Instead, she dipped her hand inside her jacket and drew her knife. In a blink, the blade was out, and its tip was pressed against the miner’s crotch.

“Hands off or dick off,” she hissed. “Your choice.”

As expected, the fingers relinquished their hold on her butt. A few of the men standing nearby laughed. The one who had grabbed her reddened and backed off.

“Dyke bitch.”

Sticks and stones. As long as the creep’s hand was off her body, Rona was happy. She slipped the knife back inside her jacket, but kept her hand on the grip just in case.

Down below, a hush had fallen over the groundlings, and now it was spreading to the balcony as well. Every eye in the house was turned toward the entrance, so that was where Rona put her eyes too. As she watched, the people standing by the door moved back, and three men stepped inside--the three biggest men Rona had ever seen.

The crowd split as the Mercs strode forward, moving in a triangular formation, one in front, the other two following close behind. All three wore tactical vests that left their arms exposed, and their powerful muscles glistened with sweat in the harsh overhead lights. Their heads were hooded, their faces drenched in shadow. All Rona could make out from a distance were the suggestions of grizzled beards and an occasional gleam of wolfish eyes.

Suddenly, the air inside the Hall didn’t seem quite so hot anymore. A chill had come over the place, as if the Grim Reaper himself had stepped into the room. Only instead of one reaper, there were three of them, and they had rifles slung over their shoulders instead of scythes.

But... only three?

Rona knew the reputation of the Mercenaries Guild. Everyone in the Outer Rim had heard the stories. Genetically modified warriors augmented to the gills and subjected to years of intense training and torture until they felt no pain and desired only killing and war. Their services were not to be employed lightly--or cheaply.

Still, Rona had assumed the Guild would be sending more than three men.

She watched as the trio approached the platform at the back of the Hall where the village councillors were waiting. The leader turned his head slowly, scanning the old men before him. Then he drew back his hood.

Rona’s heart skipped.

The chill she’d been experiencing ever since the Mercs had entered the room was replaced with a sudden rush of heat. The man was brutally handsome, his features carved by a chisel, his eyes as dark and deadly as blued steel. A beard the color of tobac covered his cheeks and jaw and hung down nearly to the top of his massive chest. There was a line on one side where a blade had scarred him and the hair had never grown back.

“Who’s in charge here?” he asked

That voice. It was like a distant growl of thunder over the badlands. Even from the balcony, Rona could feel it rumbling deep within her core. She blushed at the inappropriate feelings it stirred inside her.

Who the hell was this guy?

A killer, that’s who. A stone-cold killer. Rona was grateful that she would never be the object of such a man’s attention.

The elders on the platform seemed to share the sentiment. For a long moment, the Merc’s question went unanswered. Then, finally, one of the councillors stepped forward. A small, rotund man by the name of Brundage. He was the one who had come up with the half-baked idea of hiring Mercs in the first place. Now he introduced himself to the visitors with an obsequious little bow.

“Greetings, sir. My name is Walther Brundage. It is I who contacted your Guild.”

“I’m Aeron,” the lead Merc answered. He gestured over his shoulder at his two hooded companions. “This is Murdok and Zeth. We heard you’re having some trouble with your mine.”

“Indeed...”

Rona rolled her eyes as the councillor embarked on his tale. Brundage was the kind of man who liked to hear himself talk. Consequently, it took him much longer than necessary to explain what was going on at the mine.

The situation was actually fairly simple:

The Riadne Silk Mine was the whole reason the village existed, and it was there that most of the villagers worked. Those who didn’t still depended on the miners for their income. Taverners and barkeeps. Menders of clothing and repairers of tools. And of course, those unenviable women who plied the most ancient of trades. Without the mine, all of them would be lost.

The problems had started a few weeks back, when an unknown gang of mutants had shown up out of nowhere. More like a small army of them, actually. Rona hadn’t been in the mines then, she’d been off the clock, but she’d heard all about it. The survivors told how the mutants had invaded the mines and slaughtered their comrades. And the mutants were still there now, hunkered down in the mines and showing no intention of departing.

After Brundage finally finished talking, the man named Aeron sniffed and stroked his beard.

“So basically, you want us to get rid of the muties.”

“Precisely.”

Aeron nodded slowly. “We can take care of that for you, but it won’t be cheap.”

“How much?”

Aeron quoted a sum. It was met with a collective gasp from the crowd. Even Rona’s heart jumped a little, though she really wasn’t all that surprised. She’d known all along this was a bad idea. These Mercs were big-time. They weren’t about to work for a bunch of grubby little miners like herself and the other villagers--at least not at a price they could afford.

Down below, the man named Aeron glanced coldly around at the crowd.

“What?” he snarled. “The Mercenaries Guild isn’t running charity. We’ll help you, but you gotta pay.” He turned his attention back toward Brundage. “Who owns the mine, anyway?”

“There is not a single owner,” Brundage answered. “The Riadne Silk Mine is a small public company, with shares traded at the local Bursas, as well as in the offworld stock markets.”

“So get the shareholders to pay. You miners shouldn’t have to foot the bill.”

Brundage shook his head sadly.

“Alas, the shareholders seem to have no intention of doing any such thing. Most of them have already cut their losses and sold off their shares.” He lifted his face hopefully. “Perhaps we could work out some sort of payment plan? We have no money now, but once the mines reopen, we could give you a percentage of our revenue to cover the fee.”

Aeron glanced back at his two companions. There was something in that glance that caught Rona’s attention. Something that made her blood beat a little faster in her veins.

“We can do that,” the lead Merc said, turning to face Brundage again. “But we’ll require some collateral.”

“We are but simple miners,” said Brundage. “What could we possibly offer that would be of value to mercenaries such as yourselves?”

“A woman.”

CHAPTER 3
Rona wasn’t sure which was worse--the mercenary’s demand, or the crowd’s reaction to it. Sure, there were some gasps and murmurs of surprise, but they weren’t nearly as loud as the sounds of protest that had accompanied the sum of money the Merc had quoted earlier.

It was obvious where everyone’s priorities lay.

It was also fairly obvious why the Mercs wanted a woman as “collateral.”

Rona grimaced with disgust. She knew these men were no knights in shining armor. Chivalry did not exist here on the Out Worlds. Still, she couldn’t believe they would stoop so low.

Was this a common practice among the members of the Mercenaries Guild? Rona’d never heard of it before, but maybe others had?

Brundage, for example.

The little man seemed more than eager to meet the Mercs’ demands. At the moment, he was patting the air with his hands and exhorting the crowd to be quiet.

“Please!” he said. “Please! We must think of the good of the whole village!”

There was only one way in and out of the Common Hall--the same big, wide door through which the Mercs had entered a few minutes ago. A few of the women tried to make a run for it, but the crowd was too tightly packed, and the men around them seized their arms, arresting their progress.

The bastards were actually going along with it!

Unbelievable.

Actually, no. It wasn’t all that hard to believe, was it? When the chips were down, people were more than happy to sell out their fellow man--and even happier to sell out their fellow woman.

“That’s better,” Brundage said from the platform. “Now, let’s give these fine gentlemen what they ask. If all of the women would kindly come down to the stage so the Guildsmen can make their selection.”

Fuck. That.

Rona backed away from the railing and started to melt into the crowd. With her close-cropped hair and unfeminine clothing, there was a chance she could pass as a--

“Woman!”

The cry exploded across the balcony. Before Rona had a chance to fully blend into the crowd, arms seized her and shoved her forward. She looked to see who had called her out. It was the same guy who’d grabbed her ass earlier. He was wearing a big shit-eating grin.

“Thought you could slip away, didja? Shoulda been nicer to me, sweetcheeks. Maybe I woulda helped ya out.”

He patted her butt as she shuffled past.

Rona experienced an urge to draw her knife again, but she suppressed it. No point bringing more attention to herself than necessary. The best thing she could do now was just keep her head down and try not to stand out.

She descended the stairs to the ground floor and wended her way through the crowd to the platform. Most of the other women were already gathered there, maybe a hundred in total, all of them packed together in a staggered line. They looked scared. Even the professionals seemed apprehensive about being handed over the Mercs.

Rona climbed onto the platform and squeezed in among the others.

“Now then,” Brundage said. “That should be all of them. Do you fine gentlemen see anything that catches your eye?”

Rona scowled. The little creep sounded like he was actually enjoying himself. Yet at the same time, she took a strange comfort in the councillor’s words. She would not be catching anyone’s eye tonight. Not with her mannish hair and grubby miner’s clothes. It made her feel a bit guilty thinking that way, because it meant one of the other women would have to go with those beasts...

But hey, better them than me, right?

That thought only gave her another, sharper twinge of guilt.

The Mercs were pacing in front of the stage now. Even though their feet were on the bare ground, their eyes were level with those of the women standing on the platform before them.

Rona didn’t dare look at the big men. She dropped her gaze to the boards and imagined she was somewhere, anywhere else. Her tiny hovel. The mine. The hill outside of town where she would sometimes go to look at the stars and the occasional ship streaking across the night sky. Her heart was drumming hard.

She could see a big shadow moving in her peripheral vision. It passed in front of the woman standing beside her. Then it passed in front of Rona herself.

And stopped.

Oh God, oh God, oh God...

The Merc was so close, she could smell his sweat, mixed with the odors of gun oil and machine grease. Could he smell her too? Rona wondered. Could he smell her fear?

“What’s your name?”

The voice was so low, so very, very deep, that it seemed to shake the entire hall. Rona could feel it rumbling deep inside her body, tickling her in places she didn’t want tickled.

He isn't talking to me. He can’t be. No way.

A gloved finger touched her chin and nudged her face upward. Before she had a chance to stop them, her eyes lifted and locked with the Merc’s own. Behind the slate-rimmed pupils, Rona could see the red-coal glow of the augmetic implants within. Implants which allowed the man to see God knew what. Through her clothing. Through her skin. Into her very soul. A sudden surge of heat blasted through Rona’s body, an uncomfortable amalgam of terror and lust.

“I asked you a question, woman. What is your name?”

“Go fuck yourself. That’s my name.”

The gasp that rippled through the Common Hall was the biggest one yet, and it seemed to suck all the air out of the room.

Nobody was more surprised by her response than Rona herself. Where had that come from? What the hell had she been thinking? Nobody talked to the Mercs like that. Nobody.

She cringed in anticipation of the retaliation she knew must be coming. Gloved fingers grabbing her by the throat and squeezing hard. A knife between her ribs. A bullet in her brain.

But the man named Aeron did no such thing. The only hint that he’d even heard her at all was the merest suggestion of a smirk curling the corner of his mouth. For a long moment they just stood there staring at each other, her defiance meeting his amusement like a pair of crossed blades.

Then Brundage came scurrying over.

“My sincerest apologies, my good sir! This woman’s name is Rona. She is but a lowly miner. Perhaps one of the other women would be more pleasing to your--”

“A miner, eh?”

The Merc took Rona’s hands and turned them palms up. He brushed his thumb across her calluses. That simple, gentle touch sent another wave of heat rushing through her.

Stop it! she thought. Stop!

She suddenly remembered the slur the man upstairs had used against her.

“Brundage is right,” she said, her voice low. “You won’t find me pleasing. I don’t like men.”

It was only half a lie. She didn’t like most men. Certainly none of the ones in the village.

Aeron smirked again.

“No?” he said. “You will when I’m through with you.”

What he did next was not gentle, and it happened so fast, Rona didn’t have a chance to react. First, the Merc unzipped the front of her jacket. Then he grabbed the two sides and pulled them down, exposing her chest and pinning her arms to her sides. She was wearing a dirty white tank top underneath, but the thin fabric did little to conceal the erect buds of her nipples.

“I thought you didn’t like men,” the Merc chuckled.

“I don’t...”

His right hand let go of her jacket, and it came up to fondle her left breast through her shirt. Rona tried to pull away, but the platform was too crowded for her to move. The Merc thumbed her nipple, sending tingles of unwanted pleasure racing through her.

“Stop that,” she hissed.

He didn’t stop. His hand and his eyes remained on her chest, but when he spoke, his words were addressed to Brundage.

“Tell you what... you let us breed this one, and we’ll cut our fee in half.”

“WHAT?” Rona shouted.

But neither of the men seemed to hear her. Brundage was bobbing his head agreeably. His hands were clasped in a gesture of gratitude.

“Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you! The woman is yours to use however you see fit. I promise, no man here will object.”

“What the fuck?” Rona snarled. “You don’t own me, Brundage! You can’t just give me away!”

But as she looked around the Common Hall, she could see what Brundage had said was true. No one was coming to her rescue. Even the other women on the platform were backing away, leaving her to the mercy of the Mercs.

“It’s a deal then,” Aeron rumbled. “Zeth here will draw up the contract.”

One of the hooded Mercs stepped forward and took out a small tablet from his vest. Meanwhile the other one, the one named Murdok, grabbed Rona around the waist, and lifted her off the platform as easily as if she had been a child. When he set her down on the ground in front of him, her eyes barely came up to his chest.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take a few more women with you?” Brundage asked. “One for each of you, perhaps?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Aeron answered. “My comrades and I split everything three ways.”

TO BE CONTINUED...