Objects in Motion (4/4 & Epilogue)
Objects in Motion
part one ~ part two ~ part three
“He stole my ship,” Gabe said. “He stole my fucking ship.”
Ryland tilted his head lazily to one side. “To be fair,” he remarked, “I think we can lay some of the blame for that on the crew of space pirates who attacked and hijacked us.”
“He did worse than hijack,” Gabe said. “He took our gun and stabbed us in the fucking back with it. Traitorous fucking bastard.”
“Don’t mix literal and metaphorical,” Victoria advised, without bothering to give him much more of her attention.
“At least we don’t have to worry about getting revenge,” Gabe continued lightly, “because when local law enforcement gets hold of him…”
“We know,” Victoria said, fixing him with the full weight of her stare. “Gabe, we know.”
He tipped his head back against the curved wall of the emergency pod and swallowed. Closing his eyes brought too many unsettling images with it, memories of other people at other times, so he looked up at the domed ceiling of the pod instead. “I didn’t fuck him,” he said aloud. “For the record.”
“We know that too,” Ryland replied, starting to stretch out and aborting the movement when there was no room for it. “You’re always insufferably smug after you get laid.”
“Maybe if you had, we wouldn’t be in this pod,” Nate piped up. “You couldn’t have taken one for the team?”
Gabe’s mouth curled up in spite of the fact that he’d just been hijacked, betrayed, and ejected into space to float in a reinforced tin can for the past two hours. Maybe three, it was hard to be sure. “Fuck you,” he said, smiling at the ceiling before dropping his eyes and pulling himself the fuck together. “Okay, who has a plan?”
“We’ve somewhat limited resources,” Ryland pointed out. “There’s the five of us, and the pod, and…no, that’s it.”
“Clothes,” Nate suggested. “We’re all wearing clothes.”
“I can’t think of what we might be able to do with those,” Alex said.
“I can think of a lot we could do without them,” Gabe said, waggling his eyebrows, and was promptly elbowed in the ribs by Victoria. “Ow.”
“Better not,” Alex said. “We’d have to put up with your smugness.”
“Insufferable,” Ryland agreed. “Clothes remain on.”
“Okay, we’ve established that none of us has a plan,” Gabe allowed, biting his tongue against further innuendo with prudent wariness of Victoria’s sharp elbows. “How about a deck of cards?”
Nate sat up suddenly. Gabe was hoping he’d just remembered he had a full portable game system in his pocket when he said suddenly, “Do you hear that?”
Gabe listened. He didn’t hear a fucking thing. “No,” he answered. “What…?”
“Shhh,” Nate insisted, and a second later they all heard something, because the pod started doing the rattling, ricochet dance of being drawn on board into a loading dock.
“Rescue,” Gabe said quietly, grimly. “Hopefully.”
He wasn’t actually all that hopeful. He’d known even before he’d sent Victoria to do the sweep that the pirates wouldn’t have been stupid enough to attack them with a real patrol ship in the area, and it hadn’t been all that long since they’d been dumped.
The squeal of the metal escape hatch being unsealed was painfully loud in the enclosed space. “No,” Nate was saying when Gabe could hear again, “I know those engines.”
The hatch swung open, and William stood waiting on the other side. “Captain Saporta,” he said with a tiny smile. “Welcome aboard.”
Gabe blinked at him, and then at the familiar deck behind him. “This is my ship,” he said, dumbfounded. “We’re back on my ship.”
“Or we will be shortly,” Ryland put in, trying in vain to stretch out his unnaturally long legs. “Provided you actually get out of the pod and let the rest of us move.”
It took Gabe another second to collect himself, and then he was climbing over Nate through the hatch, pulling himself out onto the deck of his ship. “The pirates?” he asked, looking around.
William’s smile twitched into life again, like a flickering candle. “Indisposed. They’re enjoying the hospitality of a certain storage room.”
Gabe took a step forward, directly in front of William. “You came back,” he said, and then rewound. Realization dawned a second later. “You never had any intention of leaving with them in the first place.”
William gave him a tiny, apologetic shrug. “They were going to shoot you, and you weren’t going to surrender as long as you had to protect me.” He tilted his chin up to keep holding Gabe’s eyes when he took another step closer. “It seemed like the best plan.”
Gabe couldn’t seem to stop the slow, shit-eating grin that crept over his face. “Does this mean you trust me now?” he asked.
William looked back at him seriously, the smile guttered for now but still lurking somewhere deep in his eyes. “No,” he said. “I just trusted them less.”
Gabe wanted to touch him so badly that he had to physically ball his hands into fists to keep himself from curling his fingers around William’s strong, stubborn jaw. He was so fucking relieved his legs were weak - or maybe that was the several hours spent cramped inside the emergency pod, but he was permitting himself to be emotional about it - and then the difference in William’s appearance, the bared skin at his throat above his open shirt, finally clicked.
He grabbed William’s shoulders without thinking, putting him at arm’s length to confirm what he’d already seen. “Fuck,” he swore, gripping William’s shoulders tighter. “They did it. The bastards cut your collar.”
William took a step back and Gabe took the hint; eased his hold and let him go, even though he was loath to do it. “No,” William said, snapping Gabe’s attention to his face in a heartbeat. “I did that.”
Gabe’s breath caught for a second, strangling him. “Why?” he demanded.
“You said it would send a signal to the nearest patrol ship,” William replied evenly. His lips quirked up again, almost rueful. “I figured we could use the help.”
“You…” Gabe stopped for lack of suitable words, flummoxed. His chest felt tight and hot. William was barely two steps away, and that was by far two steps too many.
“Gabe,” Alex called back from the navigation station, where he’d taken up residence at the console. “We’ve got company.”
“Fuck,” Gabe said with feeling, breaking away and crossing to Alex’s side in a few long strides. “Who is it?”
“Patrol ship,” Alex answered. “A cutter. Their credentials have come through authenticated.”
“Radio,” Gabe ordered.
“This is Commander Bryar, badge number one-one-zero-four-two-three,” a scowling blond man in full uniform announced on Gabe’s monitor. “We have reason to believe you have a slave on board with a severed collar. Halt your course and prepared to be boarded. If you resist, we are authorized to fire on your vessel.”
Gabe grinned at him. “Come on over,” he invited. “And man, are we fucking glad to see you.”
-
“You’re sure he’s not a runaway,” Commander Bryar said, eyeing William suspiciously. William, for his part, was eyeing Commander Bryar right back, having no self-preservation instincts and being in general utter shit at feigning cowed deference.
“Quite sure. You can check the collar against his paperwork and my Ident card,” Gabe offered, indicating the legal document confirming his ownership, which was already in Bryar’s hand. “It was a distress signal, after we were attacked by pirates. He brought my ship back and everything.”
“Very clever,” Bryar said, returning Gabe’s records.
“I bought him for his brains,” Gabe said, ingenuous.
Bryar made a noise somewhere between clearing his throat and polite disbelief. “I’m sure.” He consulted a data pad and turned intimidatingly blue eyes on Gabe. “Ordinarily we would escort you to the nearest slavery authority, but as your engines are still damaged, we’re willing to tow you to a station.”
Gabe nodded. “That would be great.” It couldn’t be as easy as letting them go on faith, it seemed. That was probably for the best anyway; to move forward safely in freeing William and setting him up with a false Ident card, they needed to ensure that he was never suspected to have escaped.
They weren’t towed far out of their way at all, but it was a longer distance than Gabe had expected. There had to be slavery authorities on at least two moons along their route, but Bryar passed them by and made for a station Gabe knew well.
“He’s taking us to Manaka?” Gabe asked, leaning over Ryland’s shoulder to confirm the readings.
“Looks like it. Yeah, he’s just sent out the landing warning. We’re initiating docking sequences now.” With their ship largely powered down, there wasn’t a lot to do; Ryland flipped on the appropriate landing lights and let the patrol cutter handle the flying.
“What are the odds?” Gabe mused out loud, and turned his head to catch William lurking in the doorway. “Surprise,” he said, flashing a quick grin. “You’re about to meet Patrick.”
Patrick was, according to various sources: a childhood friend of Pete’s, one of the original four members of the organized liberation movement, a former slave raised in captivity and now determined to rescue as many others as he could, a computer genius working against the government in secret, an anarchist who didn’t care a fig what anyone thought and freed slaves for the hell of it, and Pete’s soulmate. That last description had come from Pete himself, and was Gabe’s personal favorite.
He was also - and this part was fact rather than rumor - the slavery authority Pete always without fail went to when he had someone to set free.
Manaka was a water treatment plant, located several thousand miles above the surface of the desert rock it served, as it was too massive to fit anywhere on the dwarf planet’s crowded surface. It wasn’t Pete’s base, but it wasn’t far away. They went back and forth on who went where, when it was necessary to rendezvous. Pete wasn’t here now, Gabe was fairly certain of that. But Patrick was, and he knew Gabe, and why Gabe might have a registered pleasure slave trailing along behind him down the boarding ramp into Patrick’s workshop.
If Patrick was surprised to see them - and he had to be, considering their escort - he didn’t let on. “Re-collaring, standard fee,” he said when Bryar had explained the reason for their visit. “Pay in advance. I can fit you in now, if you want. It’ll take about half an hour.”
While Patrick readied his tools and equipment, Gabe went over to stand next to Bryar. “Thanks for the lift,” he said casually. “And for sorting everything out.”
Bryar grunted, mostly ignoring him. Then he seemed to think better of it and said, “You had a friend of mine speaking for you. Once I filed the report, he saw your name and called me on radio.” Bryar looked sideways at him, and Gabe could have sworn he almost let slip a smile. “Commander Way says he thought he told you to stay out of trouble.”
Gabe blinked, then broke into a grin. “Tell him I’m doing my best,” he replied honestly. “You can’t blame a guy for space pirates.”
“You can if he has a flashy ship and a flashy reputation,” Bryar answered in a warning tone, but it was mild enough. “And if he doesn’t press criminal theft charges against those same pirates.”
Knowing Bryar was a friend of Gerard’s - and possibly Mikey’s as well - made Gabe comfortable enough to say, “They’re stupid kids. Hopefully they’ll think twice before they do it again. And I think,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “their hearts were in the right place.”
Bryar didn’t comment, which was proof enough that he’d understood. In the adjoining room, Patrick called, “We’re ready in here.”
Gabe walked in with William at his side. It was a small room; there was a chair in the center, adjustable in both size and position, and a tray of instruments to one side. There were restraints attached to the chair at the ankles, legs, wrists and arms, with another wide strap for the waist. At the head of the chair was a metal half-moon bracket with a chinrest, also adjustable, and Gabe could too easily imagine it around someone’s neck, keeping their head forced up while the slavery authority attached or customized a collar for a new owner.
“I don’t think any of that will be necessary,” Gabe said casually, when Patrick reached for the first strap.
Patrick shrugged and dropped it, going back to his business with the equipment on the metal tray. “Just don’t blame me if he panics and causes a fuss,” he said, tugging his hat down firmly. “You pay for anything he breaks.”
William had slowed considerably once they’d passed through the door, and was now leaning back slightly against Gabe’s hand on his spine, resisting the gentle pressure Gabe was applying to keep him moving forward as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to willingly go.
“Come on,” Gabe murmured, leaning in close to his ear and pitching his voice to be reassuring. “I’m not going to let anyone strap you down.”
“Shirt off,” Patrick said, ignoring them.
William glanced at Gabe, but his fingers rose to the buttons of his shirt, slowly parting them from the buttonholes. Gabe took it when he shrugged off, and William wrapped his arms over his chest before seeming to consciously change his mind and drop them to his sides, chin up and spine straight.
Patrick was shifting his weight impatiently by the time William settled, on the very edge of the chair as if he couldn’t stand touching any more of it than was strictly necessary. Gabe pulled up a chair and sat beside him. This couldn’t be easy, he thought, as Patrick tested a portable welder and William flinched from the flame. William had already been through this once, and now he was almost voluntarily giving up his freedom again, placing blind trust in Gabe to get him out of this if he let them put him in chains.
Patrick measured around William’s neck with a length of chain and sheared through the extra. “Lay back,” he ordered. William went stiffly, his entire spine arched away from the back of the chair as he rested unwillingly against it, reclining so Patrick could focus the worklight on his neck and begin connecting the tiny, intricate electronic cables.
Patrick was careful and neat, but a spark still jumped from the wires to William’s skin when he attached the first connector relay, and William flinched back so hard that it jerked the chain around his neck taut. Patrick looked up at him through his spectacles and said, “Hold still or I’ll have to use the bracket.” William shuddered once but didn’t move otherwise, muscles rigid.
Bryar wasn’t paying them any attention and Gabe didn’t give a fuck what he thought anyway, so he reached out and took William’s hand, hoping to distract from the whole process if he could. “Is this what it was like the first time?” he asked quietly, squeezing William’s hand and feeling William squeeze back automatically.
William started to shake his head, caught himself even before Patrick had the chance to properly glare at him, and took a deep breath. “No. I mean, I don’t remember. I wasn’t conscious when they did it. I wasn’t being particularly cooperative at the time. They dosed me with something when they couldn’t control me, and when I woke up, it was there.”
“You? Put up a fight?” Gabe teased, tone deliberately light. “Surely not.”
He earned a fleeting smile for that, but then Patrick finished with the connector relays and fired up the welder, and William’s grip tightened so hard he nearly broke Gabe’s hand.
“Easy,” Gabe murmured, watching the flame next to William’s neck like a hawk. “It’s nearly over.”
“Don’t move, or this will burn right through your skin,” Patrick warned unnecessarily. William swallowed, his throat working, and Patrick looked over his spectacles at Gabe. “This part might be easier if he were restrained.”
“No,” Gabe said automatically, without even thinking about it. He covered their joined hands with his free one, gently rubbing William’s skin. “Just do it.”
The nameplate was last, less decorative than the one William had been wearing before and more functional, a solid steel weight in the shape of a rounded triangle. William closed his eyes when the cold metal touched his skin, and made a soft, desperate noise in the back of his throat.
“Shh,” Gabe soothed, still watching Patrick at work, his attention on the sharp instruments and the welder passing within a hair’s-breadth of William’s pale skin. “Almost there.”
“Finished,” Patrick corrected, straightening up and setting down his tools. “You’re all set.”
“Thank you,” Gabe said politely. “I’m much obliged.”
William didn’t say anything, but when he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the chair, he didn’t let go of Gabe’s hand.
“I’ll leave you to go on your way,” Bryar said, nodding at Gabe and Patrick in turn. “Gentlemen.”
“Commander,” Gabe returned, nodding in kind. He waited until Bryar was gone and the door shut tight behind him before turning to Patrick and raising his eyebrows. “Funny,” he said, low-voiced, “usually we do this the other way ’round.”
Patrick shook his head, shutting everything away in a drawer and turning off the worklight angled over the chair. “You’ve actually made it easier for me, in the long run,” he commented. “We should have slaves pretend to run away more often. It’s a fuck of a lot simpler to do something wrong in the first place than to undo it when it’s right.” He wiped off his hands and looked William over critically. “You all right? I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
William stared at Patrick like he’d grown a second head, but he recovered quickly. “Yes, thank you,” he said, and off-guard and strained as he was, he probably didn’t hear the trace of an accent creeping into his speech, but Gabe did. Gabe practically bit off his tongue.
Later, he told himself. He handed William his shirt, and averted his eyes belatedly as William did up the buttons. “It won’t be on for long,” he promised quietly. “We’re only a few hours out from our destination, and we’ll be on our way as soon as Nate has the engines running again.”
“I’ll call ahead and let them know you’re on the way,” Patrick said. “Tell Pete the collar’s a dud; he’ll know what that means and how to get it off safely.”
There was a branch of Pete’s organization, Gabe knew, that concentrated on infiltration, inserting agents into slaver rings and taking down the kingpins firsthand, usually by less-than-legal means. He wondered how many times Patrick had put one of these collars on someone, and whether free men and women flinched as well when they felt him welding the chain securely closed.
“Thanks,” he said, standing up and letting go of William’s hand when he felt him pulling away. “We owe you one.” He glanced at the door through which Bryar had left, marveling. “Man. We got fucking lucky with this one, him bringing us here.” Other slavery authorities, he suspected, might not have been so kind in their ministrations, or so willing to honor Gabe’s wishes about not having William restrained. On another station, they might have strapped him down, forced his head back and not worried about a few minor burns here and there. Gabe uncurled his fists and stopped thinking about it.
Patrick half-smiled. “Not entirely lucky,” he said. When Gabe looked back at him, he elaborated, “Bob knows what I do. Some of it, at least. He’s been my records inspector for years, and I know he’s put together that some of my figures and flight plans don’t always match up.”
First Gerard, and now Bob. Gabe wondered how Pete would feel about expanding to establish a branch of his organization in law enforcement.
“Then thank fuck for that,” Gabe said honestly. He shook Patrick’s hand, and gestured for William to accompany him out the door. “Now, let’s get out of here and get that thing off you for good.”
-
They had a few hours in space before they reached Pete’s private landing bay, and while Gabe might have had a few definite ideas about how he wanted to spend those hours, he knew already that it wasn’t going to happen.
William was subdued, withdrawn, constantly fingering the chain around his neck and looking off at nothing, eyes distant. Gabe could have offered to distract him, the kind of distraction that worked best on a bed in a locked room, and he wouldn’t say he wasn’t tempted. William would have gone along with him, he was sure of it, would have followed along and let Gabe do whatever he wanted. Gabe could have done it. But he didn’t.
He took a long look at William, hunched over on himself and gazing through the docking port, fingers curled around his collar, and allowed himself to heave one disappointed mental sigh. Then he told himself to get the fuck over it and went over to provide a different form of distraction.
“Hey,” he offered, nudging William’s side. “Want me to teach you how to fly the ship?”
Victoria made a muted but patently disbelieving sound somewhere behind them. Gabe rolled his eyes.
“Fine,” he amended. “Want Ryland to teach you how to fly the ship?”
William’s smile said he knew full well Gabe was indulging him, but that he was willing to indulge Gabe in turn. “If you think I can learn,” he replied, to which Gabe made derisive noises about William being unable to do anything and towed him over to Ryland for flight lessons.
William had accomplished technical mastery of docking procedures by the time they reached orbit, but Ryland declared him not yet ready for the practical exam until he’d observed at least once, and so down they went.
Gabe leaned over to the radio and called the unlisted number for the bay. “This is the Cobra, requesting permission to land,” he announced as soon as they were connected.
The bay didn’t have a video feed, but Pete’s voice came through loud and clear. “Are you kidding me? Get your asses down here.”
Gabe grinned, and helped Ryland land by virtue of getting in the way a lot and asking obnoxious and inane questions. William’s pensive expression gave way slowly to a faint smile, so Gabe considered it worth the bruise when Victoria smacked him for pushing buttons that his crew had decreed he wasn’t supposed to touch.
Pete took to William even faster than Gabe had predicted. “I’ve heard stories about you,” he said, dark eyes bright and alert as he rocked up onto his tiptoes. “I’m not sure I believe them all, but I’d like to hear them firsthand anyway.”
“Did Patrick call you?” Gabe asked, stepping forward for his own round of hugs and backslapping.
“As soon as you left Manaka,” Pete confirmed. His eyes fell on the chain around William’s neck, prominently displayed in the open collar of his shirt. “Don’t worry,” he assured William, his expression hardening just a fraction before turning forcibly cheerful again, “we’ll have that off of you just as soon as we’ve finished forging your Ident card. If you’ll go with Joe and Andy, they’ll take your picture, get your fingerprints, retinal scan, all that sort of thing.”
William cast a questioning glance at Gabe, who nodded. Pete didn’t miss it; he was looking shrewdly at Gabe when William consented to follow Joe out of the bay. Gabe wanted badly to stay with him, as reassurance if nothing else, but he flashed a smile at Pete instead and jerked his head toward the main bay doors. “Shall we?”
“Yeah,” Pete agreed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was eccentrically dressed as always; a long leather bomber jacket over a vest with nothing beneath it but an undershirt, and trousers rolled up at the cuffs which had to be three times too long for him. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” he said, and Gabe prepared himself for a Pete-style inquisition as they passed through the doors and turned the corner into Pete’s modified drawing room.
He knew the shrewd, cunningly insightful questions were coming, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to put them off for a while longer. “Man, I could use a vacation,” he announced, sprawling out on an overstuffed sofa and stretching his limbs out in appreciation.
“Don’t get used to the idea,” Pete warned, taking a seat nearby on his favorite worn armchair. “I have another errand I need you to run out near Freyja.”
Gabe frowned. “Already? We just got here.”
They never stayed long, admittedly, but usually it was long enough to refuel, catch up, swim in the ocean, and enjoy all the comforts planet life had to offer before they headed for the stars again. And Gabe wasn’t about to admit it, but he’d been looking forward to showing William around, spending some time with him on more even ground.
Then he realized the real reason behind Pete’s decision, and sat up straight. “Wait a minute. Is this about William? Someone told you to get me away from him, didn’t they?”
Pete’s expression was uncommonly serious when he answered; he wasn’t just Gabe’s friend now, he was the mastermind of one of the largest underground criminal operations in existence. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “Do I need to?”
Gabe’s instinct was to deflect and make a joke; he smothered it and held Pete’s eyes, just as serious. “I don’t fuck around with the slaves,” he answered. “Nothing happened.”
“But you wanted something to happen,” Pete interpreted.
It was a tricky boundary, the dance he’d been doing with William, but even on reflection, Gabe was certain he’d come down on the right side of it. “Off-limits is off-limits,” he said. “I’m not saying the temptation wasn’t there, but I know how to keep it in my pants.”
Pete relaxed fractionally. “You know how it is here, how we work. We don’t keep the new arrivals in contact with any reminders of their pasts, not until they’re ready to go out and face the universe again. You knew this was coming.”
Gabe had. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. “When do you need us to take off?”
“This evening. You’ll have to get there by tomorrow to make the rendezvous.” Pete held his hands up when Gabe exhaled hard, leaning back on the sofa. “I’m not making shit up. I really do need you. And you never know; it might be good for you. Both of you.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes. “Victoria. Was it Victoria? That meddling bitch.”
“Victoria,” Pete confirmed, followed by, “Ryland. Alex. Patrick. Travis. Who says hello, by the way; he called this morning.”
“Fuck,” Gabe said with feeling. He rubbed his forehead, then opened his eyes and looked back at Pete. “You going to let me tell him before we disappear?”
“Thanks for making me sound like a monster,” Pete replied. “Dude, you know the drill. He’ll have my numbers, he can get in contact with you.”
Yeah, but he won’t, Gabe answered silently. They all got Pete’s number, and some of them even got Gabe’s. Gabe could count on one thumb the number of ex-slaves who had ever been heard from again once they got their Ident cards and passage off the planet.
“Do you know who he is?” Pete asked, in the serious tone of voice that meant he did. “Who he was?”
Gabe knew enough. He knew William’s social rank, and his habits, and his manner of speech. He knew his native accent. He could figure it out easily enough, if he really put his mind to it. Usually he looked his passengers up as soon as he had a name, more to educate himself than out of prurient curiosity. If he knew where they came from, he could tell how they ended up where they were, and what subjects and unpleasant reminders to avoid.
William had been different, though. He still was.
“To tell you the truth,” Gabe admitted, “I’m waiting for him to tell me himself.”
Pete whistled, shaking his head. “Man. You really are gone, aren’t you? I have to say, I didn’t see this coming.”
“Save it,” Gabe said. “You can mock me later. Do we need to talk through the Freyja job?”
Pete looked as though he didn’t necessarily want to let the subject go just yet, but Gabe held his eyes and eventually he backed down. “It’s just a courier job,” he answered. “I’ll send you info on what’s in the data pad, but it shouldn’t matter. I’ll see if I can come up with enough money for you to hit another brothel on your way back.”
“Peachy,” Gabe replied.
Pete got that look he got sometimes, pinched and reluctant but good-hearted. Gabe was more than familiar with it; it usually resulted in him flying to some godforsaken hellhole on a mission of mercy that had one chance in a hundred of succeeding without a hitch.
Right on cue, Pete said, “Usually I’d be against it, but you have a few hours left, if you want to spend them doing stupid lovesick shit like showing William the sunset over a real white sand beach.”
Gabe did want to do that stupid shit, more than Pete even knew, but he just shook his head. “Nah. I’ll see him at dinner.” It was better if he made himself scarce now, he reasoned. Let William have his space. This was what they were about, freeing people to make their own choices. This was what they believed in. “Right now,” he told Pete with utter sincerity, “I have a date with your pressure-shower.”
The shower helped get his mind off William, at least for the first few minutes, which he spent luxuriating in the feel of actual, honest-to-fuck hot water and creamy liquid soap. Then, of course, he started thinking about William enjoying a similar experience, and once he’d washed himself twice and his hair three times, he felt relaxed enough to let himself jerk off under the spray. Not thinking about William. Not specifically, at least. William was just sort of…there, in an abstract sense, while Gabe let his mind drift and his hand slide.
Dinner was as loud an affair as always, with Pete and Pete’s people and Pete’s fosterlings on top of Gabe’s crew and a fosterling of his own. William wasn’t comfortable yet, Gabe could tell, but he wasn’t withdrawn. He was observing, evaluating this place and these people, and when he snapped a retort back at Pete over the dinner rolls so fast that it made Pete’s jaw drop, Gabe relaxed and stopped worrying. He’d be all right.
He was still telling himself that when they finished running the pre-launch checks, when he turned around at the bottom of the boarding ramp to find William standing there waiting for him.
“I heard you were leaving,” William said, as simply as that.
Gabe forced himself to smile, and not to reach out and draw William into his arms the way he mainly wanted to. “Did you come to see us off?” he asked, lounging against one of the ramp supports and grinning, practiced casual.
William didn’t let him get away with it. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” he returned.
“I was about to swing by,” Gabe lied. He hadn’t been. He’d thought it would be easiest, best for all involved, if he just left and let William get on with the business of remembering how to be free.
Looking at him now, of course, he didn’t know why he’d thought William had ever forgotten.
He held up a fist the way Travis always did, and bumped it against William’s because if they did anything else, Gabe didn’t think he’d be able to let go. “Take care of yourself,” he said, stepping back onto the ramp. “I’ll see you around, William.”
He was nearly on board when William said behind him, “Bill.”
When Gabe turned around again to look at him, he was wearing a tiny smile. Gabe let the ache hit him, breathed through it, and tried to memorize everything about this moment before he lost it. “What?”
William’s smile grew slowly. “Bill,” he said again. “My friends call me Bill.”
“Bill,” Gabe echoed, and grinned back. “I’ll see you around, Bill.”
-
The slave’s name was Z, or at least that was what she told Gabe. She’d twisted her collar around so that the nameplate was hidden under her tangled hair, and Gabe wasn’t about to push her for the truth. If she wanted to be called Z, that’s what they would do.
He got her installed in the captain’s cabin, explaining everything in detail about who they were and what they planned to do for her, and made sure she knew how to lock the door before he left her alone to be by herself for a few hours.
Commander Bryar was in their lounge. He looked ill at ease, but not as much as Gabe might have guessed for his first time as a law enforcement officer committing a major crime. “I found her locked in a wardrobe in the captain’s cabin,” he said when Gabe joined him with two cups of coffee. “The ship had been confiscated as property after a drug bust, and I’d already sent the report with the inventory from the cargo bay. I’d have had to file an addendum to report her, and then she would have gone to auction. This way it’s like she never existed.”
“No harm, no foul,” Gabe agreed, stirring his coffee. It had been a surprise, hearing from Bryar out of the blue, but a welcome one, as it turned out. “We’ll take care of her.”
“Thanks,” Bob said, and it sounded gruff but sincere. He drank down a few gulps of coffee that had to still be hot enough to scald, judging by the amount of steam rising from the top, and said, “I would have called Patrick, but that waterlogged station of his is too far away. I can’t have a slave on my ship; I trust my crew, but I can’t put any of them in that position.”
“I know how it goes,” Gabe told him. “I’m glad you called us.”
Bob’s blue eyes did that creepy, soul-piercing thing when he looked straight at Gabe. “If you attempt to blackmail me, report this, or use it in any way as leverage, I’ll make sure you and your people never have a fucking second of peace in this galaxy.”
Gabe blinked and held up both hands. “Seriously, man. We don’t want anyone looking into our affairs, either. This is between you and me. And if it happens again,” he added carefully, “I hope you make the same decision.”
Bob nodded acknowledgement; terms agreed upon and met. He drank his coffee in brooding silence for the next few minutes, and Gabe had been dealing with slaves for long enough to know when to shut up and stay still.
Sure enough, it was less than five minutes before Bob spoke up again, low-voiced. “She offered me…” He grimaced. “Things. Herself. If I’d let her go free.”
“It’s not uncommon,” Gabe told him. “They don’t have much more to bargain with besides that.”
Bob shook his head. “She’s not even a bedslave,” he said, and there was a sick disgust in his eyes that Gabe was all too familiar with.
He barked out a short, mirthless laugh. “They’re all bedslaves,” he corrected, “if their owner wants to fuck them.”
Bob brooded again, but not for long this time. “Have you ever been tempted?” he asked, meeting Gabe’s eyes squarely across the table.
Gabe didn’t think - because he didn’t need to - about William in a stained brothel wearing a pathetically flimsy tunic; William with his eyes flashing fire and his chin tilted up; William in the captain’s cabin, leaning back against the door with his shirt untucked and his feet bare.
“More than you know,” he answered. “But the only way to do this shit is to face up to that and be a bigger fucking man afterward for turning it down.”
Bob nodded and stood up. “Captain,” he said, holding out his hand. Gabe shook it, and Bryar looked him over one more time before nodding again and taking his leave.
Gabe spent a few minutes of his own brooding over his coffee, and then left it half-finished on the table and went to make a call.
“Pete,” he said. “I’ve got a present for you. Gift-wrapped, since it’s a surprise and all. You’ll want to unwrap it once we drop it off. Six days, maybe, we’re still out past Triglav.”
Pete raised his eyebrows, but keyed something into his data pad before commenting; probably passing on the news and making necessary arrangements. “Is this something you found lying around, or something you just happened to see on sale and think I would like?”
“Neither,” Gabe replied lightly. “Remember that conversation we had about having friends in well-connected places?”
Pete’s eyebrows practically disappeared beneath his bangs, but Gabe could see that he’d interpreted that message correctly. “Paying off faster than we thought it might,” he commented.
“I’m as surprised as you are,” Gabe assured him. “But I think it’s legit. We’re taking a more circuitous route than usual, just to be safe. You might want to have your soulmate meet us somewhere neutral before we show up on your doorstep, just in case.”
Translation: If Bryar was using them to get to Pete - which Gabe didn’t think he was, but it never hurt to play things safe - and if he was using Z’s collar to track her, they shouldn’t come anywhere near Pete or Manaka until it was safely disposed of.
“I’ll pass it on,” Pete promised, looking up at him again from his data pad. There was a brief pause in the conversation where they both waited for Gabe to ask about William, and he didn’t. He knew better, after this long. William was gone, or leaving soon, and Gabe wasn’t going to dwell on it. They had rules for a reason, and Gabe had known what he was doing when he’d walked away.
“I’ll check in with you in a few days, find out where we’re meeting up,” Gabe said. “Keep in touch.”
He ended the call and headed back toward the lounge with half-formed plans of reheating his coffee. Victoria caught him before he got there, wearing no-nonsense boots and an expression to match.
“This is the first time we’ve taken on a passenger in a while,” she remarked obliquely. “You all right?”
“Victoria, I’m touched,” he told her, hand over his heart. “Is that genuine concern? Are you offering to take me against your magnificent bosom and ease my sorrows?”
“In your dreams,” she told him coolly. Then she arched an eyebrow and said, “We do still have a bottle of ice-wine, though.”
Gabe slung an arm across her shoulders and steered them in the direction of the lounge, where he could hear Ryland and Alex having a spirited debate with Nate over the effectiveness versus criminal waste of liquor in an alcohol-based fuel pump.
“We’ve got a new passenger on board, that’s reason enough to celebrate,” Gabe said. “Let’s pop the fucking cork.”
-
Epilogue
“A shipment heist?” Gabe repeated, considering Pete on his monitor. “That’s risky even for you.”
“You and Mikeyway used to pull shit like this all the time,” Pete reminded him.
“Not on this scale. It was just him and me, pinching one or two captives on their way to be collared.” Gabe raised his eyebrows pointedly. “You’re talking about hijacking an entire slave ship.”
“Not hijacking, exactly. You’ll be posing as a guard escort for hire, so once you take care of the few wardens on the slave ship itself, all of you can just quietly disappear.” Pete made it sound like it would be just that easy, too. Gabe favored him with a skeptical look, which Pete blithely ignored. “You’ll have help, anyway. I’ve got newbies, I need someone to teach them. You’re the expert.”
“Yeah, about that,” Gabe said.
“Gabe, we’ve just reached rendezvous,” Ryland called back. “There’s another ship trying to get us on radio.”
“Right on time,” Pete said cheerfully.
Gabe stabbed a finger at Pete’s face on the monitor. “You stay there. If anything seems hinky, or if they’re as green as you say and forget all the secret codes you taught them in spy school, I’m going to want verification that they are who they say they are.”
Pete raised his hands in what Gabe interpreted as surrender. Pete had been doing a lot of surrendering lately, and a lot of sending Gabe and the Cobra out on far-reaching, wildly unusual missions. Gabe suspected it was largely due to Pete noticing how restless he’d gotten, over the past nine months. He’d brought back a few more slaves, but it hadn’t been as satisfying, somehow. They’d all been good people, ill-used but hanging onto their sanity and dignity. Not one of them had ever tried to punch him in the face, even once.
A few months in, Pete had started giving him assignments like this one. Underhanded deals with criminals looking to unload human merchandise; smuggling a cargo hold full of slaves all taken at once from some rich bastard’s summer house; and their current assignment: divert a ship crammed with people who were marked for slavery but hadn’t been collared yet.
This was the first time they’d been sent a second ship to assist on a heist, though. And it wasn’t any ship Gabe knew, which suggested that when Pete said newbies, he really meant it.
Gabe switched radio channels, answering the call of the flashing light above his console.
“This is Captain Beckett of the Academy,” a very familiar voice said by way of greeting. It was accompanied by a very familiar face on his screen. For a moment, Gabe just stared. Nine months, no word, and now this.
He punched the channel button and switched back to Pete. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
Pete grinned at him, the cunning, secret-keeping bastard. “In the time he was with you, he ambushed you and half your crew, faced down one of the most dangerous slave mistresses in the galaxy, tricked and captured a four-person pirate crew, and stole your ship right out from under you. What did you think I was going to do with him?”
“You smug asshole,” Gabe told him, grinning now too. “You couldn’t have just told me? You had to be evasive?”
“I was letting him make up his mind before I got your hopes up,” Pete answered. He leered at Gabe as much as someone could through a video monitor and added, “This is his first time. Be gentle with him.”
“Fuck you,” Gabe said cheerfully, and ended the call. “Ryland!” he yelled as he left the radio room. “Initiate docking procedures.” He was grinning like a maniac and he knew it; couldn’t help it and didn’t really want to. “Let’s meet Pete’s new batch of miscreants.”
“It’s not those pirates who attacked us, is it?” Alex asked. “Pete seems creepily fond of them.”
“He’s obsessed,” Gabe agreed. “And no, it’s not. I think he’s got them doing something closer to home base where he can keep an eye on them. This,” he said, clapping Ryland on the shoulder as he passed, “is an old friend.”
Nate met him at the docking hatch. “Trouble?” he asked.
Gabe grinned at him. “Very likely.”
He hit the release for the hatch as soon as the green docking light came on, and stepped back as it opened with a hiss.
William had cut his hair again; it curled in soft strands around his face, making him look even younger than he had nine months ago when Gabe had said goodbye to him at the end of a boarding ramp. He was dressed well but simply, like he was giving a nod to the person he had been while embracing his new life as an upscale rogue. His shirt was open at the collar, no cravat in sight; nothing but pale, smooth, unfettered skin.
“Captain Saporta,” William said, with one of those teasing half-smiles that Gabe remembered so well.
Gabe grinned right back at him. “Captain Beckett,” he said. “Welcome aboard.”
part one ~ part two ~ part three
“He stole my ship,” Gabe said. “He stole my fucking ship.”
Ryland tilted his head lazily to one side. “To be fair,” he remarked, “I think we can lay some of the blame for that on the crew of space pirates who attacked and hijacked us.”
“He did worse than hijack,” Gabe said. “He took our gun and stabbed us in the fucking back with it. Traitorous fucking bastard.”
“Don’t mix literal and metaphorical,” Victoria advised, without bothering to give him much more of her attention.
“At least we don’t have to worry about getting revenge,” Gabe continued lightly, “because when local law enforcement gets hold of him…”
“We know,” Victoria said, fixing him with the full weight of her stare. “Gabe, we know.”
He tipped his head back against the curved wall of the emergency pod and swallowed. Closing his eyes brought too many unsettling images with it, memories of other people at other times, so he looked up at the domed ceiling of the pod instead. “I didn’t fuck him,” he said aloud. “For the record.”
“We know that too,” Ryland replied, starting to stretch out and aborting the movement when there was no room for it. “You’re always insufferably smug after you get laid.”
“Maybe if you had, we wouldn’t be in this pod,” Nate piped up. “You couldn’t have taken one for the team?”
Gabe’s mouth curled up in spite of the fact that he’d just been hijacked, betrayed, and ejected into space to float in a reinforced tin can for the past two hours. Maybe three, it was hard to be sure. “Fuck you,” he said, smiling at the ceiling before dropping his eyes and pulling himself the fuck together. “Okay, who has a plan?”
“We’ve somewhat limited resources,” Ryland pointed out. “There’s the five of us, and the pod, and…no, that’s it.”
“Clothes,” Nate suggested. “We’re all wearing clothes.”
“I can’t think of what we might be able to do with those,” Alex said.
“I can think of a lot we could do without them,” Gabe said, waggling his eyebrows, and was promptly elbowed in the ribs by Victoria. “Ow.”
“Better not,” Alex said. “We’d have to put up with your smugness.”
“Insufferable,” Ryland agreed. “Clothes remain on.”
“Okay, we’ve established that none of us has a plan,” Gabe allowed, biting his tongue against further innuendo with prudent wariness of Victoria’s sharp elbows. “How about a deck of cards?”
Nate sat up suddenly. Gabe was hoping he’d just remembered he had a full portable game system in his pocket when he said suddenly, “Do you hear that?”
Gabe listened. He didn’t hear a fucking thing. “No,” he answered. “What…?”
“Shhh,” Nate insisted, and a second later they all heard something, because the pod started doing the rattling, ricochet dance of being drawn on board into a loading dock.
“Rescue,” Gabe said quietly, grimly. “Hopefully.”
He wasn’t actually all that hopeful. He’d known even before he’d sent Victoria to do the sweep that the pirates wouldn’t have been stupid enough to attack them with a real patrol ship in the area, and it hadn’t been all that long since they’d been dumped.
The squeal of the metal escape hatch being unsealed was painfully loud in the enclosed space. “No,” Nate was saying when Gabe could hear again, “I know those engines.”
The hatch swung open, and William stood waiting on the other side. “Captain Saporta,” he said with a tiny smile. “Welcome aboard.”
Gabe blinked at him, and then at the familiar deck behind him. “This is my ship,” he said, dumbfounded. “We’re back on my ship.”
“Or we will be shortly,” Ryland put in, trying in vain to stretch out his unnaturally long legs. “Provided you actually get out of the pod and let the rest of us move.”
It took Gabe another second to collect himself, and then he was climbing over Nate through the hatch, pulling himself out onto the deck of his ship. “The pirates?” he asked, looking around.
William’s smile twitched into life again, like a flickering candle. “Indisposed. They’re enjoying the hospitality of a certain storage room.”
Gabe took a step forward, directly in front of William. “You came back,” he said, and then rewound. Realization dawned a second later. “You never had any intention of leaving with them in the first place.”
William gave him a tiny, apologetic shrug. “They were going to shoot you, and you weren’t going to surrender as long as you had to protect me.” He tilted his chin up to keep holding Gabe’s eyes when he took another step closer. “It seemed like the best plan.”
Gabe couldn’t seem to stop the slow, shit-eating grin that crept over his face. “Does this mean you trust me now?” he asked.
William looked back at him seriously, the smile guttered for now but still lurking somewhere deep in his eyes. “No,” he said. “I just trusted them less.”
Gabe wanted to touch him so badly that he had to physically ball his hands into fists to keep himself from curling his fingers around William’s strong, stubborn jaw. He was so fucking relieved his legs were weak - or maybe that was the several hours spent cramped inside the emergency pod, but he was permitting himself to be emotional about it - and then the difference in William’s appearance, the bared skin at his throat above his open shirt, finally clicked.
He grabbed William’s shoulders without thinking, putting him at arm’s length to confirm what he’d already seen. “Fuck,” he swore, gripping William’s shoulders tighter. “They did it. The bastards cut your collar.”
William took a step back and Gabe took the hint; eased his hold and let him go, even though he was loath to do it. “No,” William said, snapping Gabe’s attention to his face in a heartbeat. “I did that.”
Gabe’s breath caught for a second, strangling him. “Why?” he demanded.
“You said it would send a signal to the nearest patrol ship,” William replied evenly. His lips quirked up again, almost rueful. “I figured we could use the help.”
“You…” Gabe stopped for lack of suitable words, flummoxed. His chest felt tight and hot. William was barely two steps away, and that was by far two steps too many.
“Gabe,” Alex called back from the navigation station, where he’d taken up residence at the console. “We’ve got company.”
“Fuck,” Gabe said with feeling, breaking away and crossing to Alex’s side in a few long strides. “Who is it?”
“Patrol ship,” Alex answered. “A cutter. Their credentials have come through authenticated.”
“Radio,” Gabe ordered.
“This is Commander Bryar, badge number one-one-zero-four-two-three,” a scowling blond man in full uniform announced on Gabe’s monitor. “We have reason to believe you have a slave on board with a severed collar. Halt your course and prepared to be boarded. If you resist, we are authorized to fire on your vessel.”
Gabe grinned at him. “Come on over,” he invited. “And man, are we fucking glad to see you.”
-
“You’re sure he’s not a runaway,” Commander Bryar said, eyeing William suspiciously. William, for his part, was eyeing Commander Bryar right back, having no self-preservation instincts and being in general utter shit at feigning cowed deference.
“Quite sure. You can check the collar against his paperwork and my Ident card,” Gabe offered, indicating the legal document confirming his ownership, which was already in Bryar’s hand. “It was a distress signal, after we were attacked by pirates. He brought my ship back and everything.”
“Very clever,” Bryar said, returning Gabe’s records.
“I bought him for his brains,” Gabe said, ingenuous.
Bryar made a noise somewhere between clearing his throat and polite disbelief. “I’m sure.” He consulted a data pad and turned intimidatingly blue eyes on Gabe. “Ordinarily we would escort you to the nearest slavery authority, but as your engines are still damaged, we’re willing to tow you to a station.”
Gabe nodded. “That would be great.” It couldn’t be as easy as letting them go on faith, it seemed. That was probably for the best anyway; to move forward safely in freeing William and setting him up with a false Ident card, they needed to ensure that he was never suspected to have escaped.
They weren’t towed far out of their way at all, but it was a longer distance than Gabe had expected. There had to be slavery authorities on at least two moons along their route, but Bryar passed them by and made for a station Gabe knew well.
“He’s taking us to Manaka?” Gabe asked, leaning over Ryland’s shoulder to confirm the readings.
“Looks like it. Yeah, he’s just sent out the landing warning. We’re initiating docking sequences now.” With their ship largely powered down, there wasn’t a lot to do; Ryland flipped on the appropriate landing lights and let the patrol cutter handle the flying.
“What are the odds?” Gabe mused out loud, and turned his head to catch William lurking in the doorway. “Surprise,” he said, flashing a quick grin. “You’re about to meet Patrick.”
Patrick was, according to various sources: a childhood friend of Pete’s, one of the original four members of the organized liberation movement, a former slave raised in captivity and now determined to rescue as many others as he could, a computer genius working against the government in secret, an anarchist who didn’t care a fig what anyone thought and freed slaves for the hell of it, and Pete’s soulmate. That last description had come from Pete himself, and was Gabe’s personal favorite.
He was also - and this part was fact rather than rumor - the slavery authority Pete always without fail went to when he had someone to set free.
Manaka was a water treatment plant, located several thousand miles above the surface of the desert rock it served, as it was too massive to fit anywhere on the dwarf planet’s crowded surface. It wasn’t Pete’s base, but it wasn’t far away. They went back and forth on who went where, when it was necessary to rendezvous. Pete wasn’t here now, Gabe was fairly certain of that. But Patrick was, and he knew Gabe, and why Gabe might have a registered pleasure slave trailing along behind him down the boarding ramp into Patrick’s workshop.
If Patrick was surprised to see them - and he had to be, considering their escort - he didn’t let on. “Re-collaring, standard fee,” he said when Bryar had explained the reason for their visit. “Pay in advance. I can fit you in now, if you want. It’ll take about half an hour.”
While Patrick readied his tools and equipment, Gabe went over to stand next to Bryar. “Thanks for the lift,” he said casually. “And for sorting everything out.”
Bryar grunted, mostly ignoring him. Then he seemed to think better of it and said, “You had a friend of mine speaking for you. Once I filed the report, he saw your name and called me on radio.” Bryar looked sideways at him, and Gabe could have sworn he almost let slip a smile. “Commander Way says he thought he told you to stay out of trouble.”
Gabe blinked, then broke into a grin. “Tell him I’m doing my best,” he replied honestly. “You can’t blame a guy for space pirates.”
“You can if he has a flashy ship and a flashy reputation,” Bryar answered in a warning tone, but it was mild enough. “And if he doesn’t press criminal theft charges against those same pirates.”
Knowing Bryar was a friend of Gerard’s - and possibly Mikey’s as well - made Gabe comfortable enough to say, “They’re stupid kids. Hopefully they’ll think twice before they do it again. And I think,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “their hearts were in the right place.”
Bryar didn’t comment, which was proof enough that he’d understood. In the adjoining room, Patrick called, “We’re ready in here.”
Gabe walked in with William at his side. It was a small room; there was a chair in the center, adjustable in both size and position, and a tray of instruments to one side. There were restraints attached to the chair at the ankles, legs, wrists and arms, with another wide strap for the waist. At the head of the chair was a metal half-moon bracket with a chinrest, also adjustable, and Gabe could too easily imagine it around someone’s neck, keeping their head forced up while the slavery authority attached or customized a collar for a new owner.
“I don’t think any of that will be necessary,” Gabe said casually, when Patrick reached for the first strap.
Patrick shrugged and dropped it, going back to his business with the equipment on the metal tray. “Just don’t blame me if he panics and causes a fuss,” he said, tugging his hat down firmly. “You pay for anything he breaks.”
William had slowed considerably once they’d passed through the door, and was now leaning back slightly against Gabe’s hand on his spine, resisting the gentle pressure Gabe was applying to keep him moving forward as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to willingly go.
“Come on,” Gabe murmured, leaning in close to his ear and pitching his voice to be reassuring. “I’m not going to let anyone strap you down.”
“Shirt off,” Patrick said, ignoring them.
William glanced at Gabe, but his fingers rose to the buttons of his shirt, slowly parting them from the buttonholes. Gabe took it when he shrugged off, and William wrapped his arms over his chest before seeming to consciously change his mind and drop them to his sides, chin up and spine straight.
Patrick was shifting his weight impatiently by the time William settled, on the very edge of the chair as if he couldn’t stand touching any more of it than was strictly necessary. Gabe pulled up a chair and sat beside him. This couldn’t be easy, he thought, as Patrick tested a portable welder and William flinched from the flame. William had already been through this once, and now he was almost voluntarily giving up his freedom again, placing blind trust in Gabe to get him out of this if he let them put him in chains.
Patrick measured around William’s neck with a length of chain and sheared through the extra. “Lay back,” he ordered. William went stiffly, his entire spine arched away from the back of the chair as he rested unwillingly against it, reclining so Patrick could focus the worklight on his neck and begin connecting the tiny, intricate electronic cables.
Patrick was careful and neat, but a spark still jumped from the wires to William’s skin when he attached the first connector relay, and William flinched back so hard that it jerked the chain around his neck taut. Patrick looked up at him through his spectacles and said, “Hold still or I’ll have to use the bracket.” William shuddered once but didn’t move otherwise, muscles rigid.
Bryar wasn’t paying them any attention and Gabe didn’t give a fuck what he thought anyway, so he reached out and took William’s hand, hoping to distract from the whole process if he could. “Is this what it was like the first time?” he asked quietly, squeezing William’s hand and feeling William squeeze back automatically.
William started to shake his head, caught himself even before Patrick had the chance to properly glare at him, and took a deep breath. “No. I mean, I don’t remember. I wasn’t conscious when they did it. I wasn’t being particularly cooperative at the time. They dosed me with something when they couldn’t control me, and when I woke up, it was there.”
“You? Put up a fight?” Gabe teased, tone deliberately light. “Surely not.”
He earned a fleeting smile for that, but then Patrick finished with the connector relays and fired up the welder, and William’s grip tightened so hard he nearly broke Gabe’s hand.
“Easy,” Gabe murmured, watching the flame next to William’s neck like a hawk. “It’s nearly over.”
“Don’t move, or this will burn right through your skin,” Patrick warned unnecessarily. William swallowed, his throat working, and Patrick looked over his spectacles at Gabe. “This part might be easier if he were restrained.”
“No,” Gabe said automatically, without even thinking about it. He covered their joined hands with his free one, gently rubbing William’s skin. “Just do it.”
The nameplate was last, less decorative than the one William had been wearing before and more functional, a solid steel weight in the shape of a rounded triangle. William closed his eyes when the cold metal touched his skin, and made a soft, desperate noise in the back of his throat.
“Shh,” Gabe soothed, still watching Patrick at work, his attention on the sharp instruments and the welder passing within a hair’s-breadth of William’s pale skin. “Almost there.”
“Finished,” Patrick corrected, straightening up and setting down his tools. “You’re all set.”
“Thank you,” Gabe said politely. “I’m much obliged.”
William didn’t say anything, but when he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the chair, he didn’t let go of Gabe’s hand.
“I’ll leave you to go on your way,” Bryar said, nodding at Gabe and Patrick in turn. “Gentlemen.”
“Commander,” Gabe returned, nodding in kind. He waited until Bryar was gone and the door shut tight behind him before turning to Patrick and raising his eyebrows. “Funny,” he said, low-voiced, “usually we do this the other way ’round.”
Patrick shook his head, shutting everything away in a drawer and turning off the worklight angled over the chair. “You’ve actually made it easier for me, in the long run,” he commented. “We should have slaves pretend to run away more often. It’s a fuck of a lot simpler to do something wrong in the first place than to undo it when it’s right.” He wiped off his hands and looked William over critically. “You all right? I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
William stared at Patrick like he’d grown a second head, but he recovered quickly. “Yes, thank you,” he said, and off-guard and strained as he was, he probably didn’t hear the trace of an accent creeping into his speech, but Gabe did. Gabe practically bit off his tongue.
Later, he told himself. He handed William his shirt, and averted his eyes belatedly as William did up the buttons. “It won’t be on for long,” he promised quietly. “We’re only a few hours out from our destination, and we’ll be on our way as soon as Nate has the engines running again.”
“I’ll call ahead and let them know you’re on the way,” Patrick said. “Tell Pete the collar’s a dud; he’ll know what that means and how to get it off safely.”
There was a branch of Pete’s organization, Gabe knew, that concentrated on infiltration, inserting agents into slaver rings and taking down the kingpins firsthand, usually by less-than-legal means. He wondered how many times Patrick had put one of these collars on someone, and whether free men and women flinched as well when they felt him welding the chain securely closed.
“Thanks,” he said, standing up and letting go of William’s hand when he felt him pulling away. “We owe you one.” He glanced at the door through which Bryar had left, marveling. “Man. We got fucking lucky with this one, him bringing us here.” Other slavery authorities, he suspected, might not have been so kind in their ministrations, or so willing to honor Gabe’s wishes about not having William restrained. On another station, they might have strapped him down, forced his head back and not worried about a few minor burns here and there. Gabe uncurled his fists and stopped thinking about it.
Patrick half-smiled. “Not entirely lucky,” he said. When Gabe looked back at him, he elaborated, “Bob knows what I do. Some of it, at least. He’s been my records inspector for years, and I know he’s put together that some of my figures and flight plans don’t always match up.”
First Gerard, and now Bob. Gabe wondered how Pete would feel about expanding to establish a branch of his organization in law enforcement.
“Then thank fuck for that,” Gabe said honestly. He shook Patrick’s hand, and gestured for William to accompany him out the door. “Now, let’s get out of here and get that thing off you for good.”
-
They had a few hours in space before they reached Pete’s private landing bay, and while Gabe might have had a few definite ideas about how he wanted to spend those hours, he knew already that it wasn’t going to happen.
William was subdued, withdrawn, constantly fingering the chain around his neck and looking off at nothing, eyes distant. Gabe could have offered to distract him, the kind of distraction that worked best on a bed in a locked room, and he wouldn’t say he wasn’t tempted. William would have gone along with him, he was sure of it, would have followed along and let Gabe do whatever he wanted. Gabe could have done it. But he didn’t.
He took a long look at William, hunched over on himself and gazing through the docking port, fingers curled around his collar, and allowed himself to heave one disappointed mental sigh. Then he told himself to get the fuck over it and went over to provide a different form of distraction.
“Hey,” he offered, nudging William’s side. “Want me to teach you how to fly the ship?”
Victoria made a muted but patently disbelieving sound somewhere behind them. Gabe rolled his eyes.
“Fine,” he amended. “Want Ryland to teach you how to fly the ship?”
William’s smile said he knew full well Gabe was indulging him, but that he was willing to indulge Gabe in turn. “If you think I can learn,” he replied, to which Gabe made derisive noises about William being unable to do anything and towed him over to Ryland for flight lessons.
William had accomplished technical mastery of docking procedures by the time they reached orbit, but Ryland declared him not yet ready for the practical exam until he’d observed at least once, and so down they went.
Gabe leaned over to the radio and called the unlisted number for the bay. “This is the Cobra, requesting permission to land,” he announced as soon as they were connected.
The bay didn’t have a video feed, but Pete’s voice came through loud and clear. “Are you kidding me? Get your asses down here.”
Gabe grinned, and helped Ryland land by virtue of getting in the way a lot and asking obnoxious and inane questions. William’s pensive expression gave way slowly to a faint smile, so Gabe considered it worth the bruise when Victoria smacked him for pushing buttons that his crew had decreed he wasn’t supposed to touch.
Pete took to William even faster than Gabe had predicted. “I’ve heard stories about you,” he said, dark eyes bright and alert as he rocked up onto his tiptoes. “I’m not sure I believe them all, but I’d like to hear them firsthand anyway.”
“Did Patrick call you?” Gabe asked, stepping forward for his own round of hugs and backslapping.
“As soon as you left Manaka,” Pete confirmed. His eyes fell on the chain around William’s neck, prominently displayed in the open collar of his shirt. “Don’t worry,” he assured William, his expression hardening just a fraction before turning forcibly cheerful again, “we’ll have that off of you just as soon as we’ve finished forging your Ident card. If you’ll go with Joe and Andy, they’ll take your picture, get your fingerprints, retinal scan, all that sort of thing.”
William cast a questioning glance at Gabe, who nodded. Pete didn’t miss it; he was looking shrewdly at Gabe when William consented to follow Joe out of the bay. Gabe wanted badly to stay with him, as reassurance if nothing else, but he flashed a smile at Pete instead and jerked his head toward the main bay doors. “Shall we?”
“Yeah,” Pete agreed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was eccentrically dressed as always; a long leather bomber jacket over a vest with nothing beneath it but an undershirt, and trousers rolled up at the cuffs which had to be three times too long for him. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” he said, and Gabe prepared himself for a Pete-style inquisition as they passed through the doors and turned the corner into Pete’s modified drawing room.
He knew the shrewd, cunningly insightful questions were coming, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to put them off for a while longer. “Man, I could use a vacation,” he announced, sprawling out on an overstuffed sofa and stretching his limbs out in appreciation.
“Don’t get used to the idea,” Pete warned, taking a seat nearby on his favorite worn armchair. “I have another errand I need you to run out near Freyja.”
Gabe frowned. “Already? We just got here.”
They never stayed long, admittedly, but usually it was long enough to refuel, catch up, swim in the ocean, and enjoy all the comforts planet life had to offer before they headed for the stars again. And Gabe wasn’t about to admit it, but he’d been looking forward to showing William around, spending some time with him on more even ground.
Then he realized the real reason behind Pete’s decision, and sat up straight. “Wait a minute. Is this about William? Someone told you to get me away from him, didn’t they?”
Pete’s expression was uncommonly serious when he answered; he wasn’t just Gabe’s friend now, he was the mastermind of one of the largest underground criminal operations in existence. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “Do I need to?”
Gabe’s instinct was to deflect and make a joke; he smothered it and held Pete’s eyes, just as serious. “I don’t fuck around with the slaves,” he answered. “Nothing happened.”
“But you wanted something to happen,” Pete interpreted.
It was a tricky boundary, the dance he’d been doing with William, but even on reflection, Gabe was certain he’d come down on the right side of it. “Off-limits is off-limits,” he said. “I’m not saying the temptation wasn’t there, but I know how to keep it in my pants.”
Pete relaxed fractionally. “You know how it is here, how we work. We don’t keep the new arrivals in contact with any reminders of their pasts, not until they’re ready to go out and face the universe again. You knew this was coming.”
Gabe had. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. “When do you need us to take off?”
“This evening. You’ll have to get there by tomorrow to make the rendezvous.” Pete held his hands up when Gabe exhaled hard, leaning back on the sofa. “I’m not making shit up. I really do need you. And you never know; it might be good for you. Both of you.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes. “Victoria. Was it Victoria? That meddling bitch.”
“Victoria,” Pete confirmed, followed by, “Ryland. Alex. Patrick. Travis. Who says hello, by the way; he called this morning.”
“Fuck,” Gabe said with feeling. He rubbed his forehead, then opened his eyes and looked back at Pete. “You going to let me tell him before we disappear?”
“Thanks for making me sound like a monster,” Pete replied. “Dude, you know the drill. He’ll have my numbers, he can get in contact with you.”
Yeah, but he won’t, Gabe answered silently. They all got Pete’s number, and some of them even got Gabe’s. Gabe could count on one thumb the number of ex-slaves who had ever been heard from again once they got their Ident cards and passage off the planet.
“Do you know who he is?” Pete asked, in the serious tone of voice that meant he did. “Who he was?”
Gabe knew enough. He knew William’s social rank, and his habits, and his manner of speech. He knew his native accent. He could figure it out easily enough, if he really put his mind to it. Usually he looked his passengers up as soon as he had a name, more to educate himself than out of prurient curiosity. If he knew where they came from, he could tell how they ended up where they were, and what subjects and unpleasant reminders to avoid.
William had been different, though. He still was.
“To tell you the truth,” Gabe admitted, “I’m waiting for him to tell me himself.”
Pete whistled, shaking his head. “Man. You really are gone, aren’t you? I have to say, I didn’t see this coming.”
“Save it,” Gabe said. “You can mock me later. Do we need to talk through the Freyja job?”
Pete looked as though he didn’t necessarily want to let the subject go just yet, but Gabe held his eyes and eventually he backed down. “It’s just a courier job,” he answered. “I’ll send you info on what’s in the data pad, but it shouldn’t matter. I’ll see if I can come up with enough money for you to hit another brothel on your way back.”
“Peachy,” Gabe replied.
Pete got that look he got sometimes, pinched and reluctant but good-hearted. Gabe was more than familiar with it; it usually resulted in him flying to some godforsaken hellhole on a mission of mercy that had one chance in a hundred of succeeding without a hitch.
Right on cue, Pete said, “Usually I’d be against it, but you have a few hours left, if you want to spend them doing stupid lovesick shit like showing William the sunset over a real white sand beach.”
Gabe did want to do that stupid shit, more than Pete even knew, but he just shook his head. “Nah. I’ll see him at dinner.” It was better if he made himself scarce now, he reasoned. Let William have his space. This was what they were about, freeing people to make their own choices. This was what they believed in. “Right now,” he told Pete with utter sincerity, “I have a date with your pressure-shower.”
The shower helped get his mind off William, at least for the first few minutes, which he spent luxuriating in the feel of actual, honest-to-fuck hot water and creamy liquid soap. Then, of course, he started thinking about William enjoying a similar experience, and once he’d washed himself twice and his hair three times, he felt relaxed enough to let himself jerk off under the spray. Not thinking about William. Not specifically, at least. William was just sort of…there, in an abstract sense, while Gabe let his mind drift and his hand slide.
Dinner was as loud an affair as always, with Pete and Pete’s people and Pete’s fosterlings on top of Gabe’s crew and a fosterling of his own. William wasn’t comfortable yet, Gabe could tell, but he wasn’t withdrawn. He was observing, evaluating this place and these people, and when he snapped a retort back at Pete over the dinner rolls so fast that it made Pete’s jaw drop, Gabe relaxed and stopped worrying. He’d be all right.
He was still telling himself that when they finished running the pre-launch checks, when he turned around at the bottom of the boarding ramp to find William standing there waiting for him.
“I heard you were leaving,” William said, as simply as that.
Gabe forced himself to smile, and not to reach out and draw William into his arms the way he mainly wanted to. “Did you come to see us off?” he asked, lounging against one of the ramp supports and grinning, practiced casual.
William didn’t let him get away with it. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” he returned.
“I was about to swing by,” Gabe lied. He hadn’t been. He’d thought it would be easiest, best for all involved, if he just left and let William get on with the business of remembering how to be free.
Looking at him now, of course, he didn’t know why he’d thought William had ever forgotten.
He held up a fist the way Travis always did, and bumped it against William’s because if they did anything else, Gabe didn’t think he’d be able to let go. “Take care of yourself,” he said, stepping back onto the ramp. “I’ll see you around, William.”
He was nearly on board when William said behind him, “Bill.”
When Gabe turned around again to look at him, he was wearing a tiny smile. Gabe let the ache hit him, breathed through it, and tried to memorize everything about this moment before he lost it. “What?”
William’s smile grew slowly. “Bill,” he said again. “My friends call me Bill.”
“Bill,” Gabe echoed, and grinned back. “I’ll see you around, Bill.”
-
The slave’s name was Z, or at least that was what she told Gabe. She’d twisted her collar around so that the nameplate was hidden under her tangled hair, and Gabe wasn’t about to push her for the truth. If she wanted to be called Z, that’s what they would do.
He got her installed in the captain’s cabin, explaining everything in detail about who they were and what they planned to do for her, and made sure she knew how to lock the door before he left her alone to be by herself for a few hours.
Commander Bryar was in their lounge. He looked ill at ease, but not as much as Gabe might have guessed for his first time as a law enforcement officer committing a major crime. “I found her locked in a wardrobe in the captain’s cabin,” he said when Gabe joined him with two cups of coffee. “The ship had been confiscated as property after a drug bust, and I’d already sent the report with the inventory from the cargo bay. I’d have had to file an addendum to report her, and then she would have gone to auction. This way it’s like she never existed.”
“No harm, no foul,” Gabe agreed, stirring his coffee. It had been a surprise, hearing from Bryar out of the blue, but a welcome one, as it turned out. “We’ll take care of her.”
“Thanks,” Bob said, and it sounded gruff but sincere. He drank down a few gulps of coffee that had to still be hot enough to scald, judging by the amount of steam rising from the top, and said, “I would have called Patrick, but that waterlogged station of his is too far away. I can’t have a slave on my ship; I trust my crew, but I can’t put any of them in that position.”
“I know how it goes,” Gabe told him. “I’m glad you called us.”
Bob’s blue eyes did that creepy, soul-piercing thing when he looked straight at Gabe. “If you attempt to blackmail me, report this, or use it in any way as leverage, I’ll make sure you and your people never have a fucking second of peace in this galaxy.”
Gabe blinked and held up both hands. “Seriously, man. We don’t want anyone looking into our affairs, either. This is between you and me. And if it happens again,” he added carefully, “I hope you make the same decision.”
Bob nodded acknowledgement; terms agreed upon and met. He drank his coffee in brooding silence for the next few minutes, and Gabe had been dealing with slaves for long enough to know when to shut up and stay still.
Sure enough, it was less than five minutes before Bob spoke up again, low-voiced. “She offered me…” He grimaced. “Things. Herself. If I’d let her go free.”
“It’s not uncommon,” Gabe told him. “They don’t have much more to bargain with besides that.”
Bob shook his head. “She’s not even a bedslave,” he said, and there was a sick disgust in his eyes that Gabe was all too familiar with.
He barked out a short, mirthless laugh. “They’re all bedslaves,” he corrected, “if their owner wants to fuck them.”
Bob brooded again, but not for long this time. “Have you ever been tempted?” he asked, meeting Gabe’s eyes squarely across the table.
Gabe didn’t think - because he didn’t need to - about William in a stained brothel wearing a pathetically flimsy tunic; William with his eyes flashing fire and his chin tilted up; William in the captain’s cabin, leaning back against the door with his shirt untucked and his feet bare.
“More than you know,” he answered. “But the only way to do this shit is to face up to that and be a bigger fucking man afterward for turning it down.”
Bob nodded and stood up. “Captain,” he said, holding out his hand. Gabe shook it, and Bryar looked him over one more time before nodding again and taking his leave.
Gabe spent a few minutes of his own brooding over his coffee, and then left it half-finished on the table and went to make a call.
“Pete,” he said. “I’ve got a present for you. Gift-wrapped, since it’s a surprise and all. You’ll want to unwrap it once we drop it off. Six days, maybe, we’re still out past Triglav.”
Pete raised his eyebrows, but keyed something into his data pad before commenting; probably passing on the news and making necessary arrangements. “Is this something you found lying around, or something you just happened to see on sale and think I would like?”
“Neither,” Gabe replied lightly. “Remember that conversation we had about having friends in well-connected places?”
Pete’s eyebrows practically disappeared beneath his bangs, but Gabe could see that he’d interpreted that message correctly. “Paying off faster than we thought it might,” he commented.
“I’m as surprised as you are,” Gabe assured him. “But I think it’s legit. We’re taking a more circuitous route than usual, just to be safe. You might want to have your soulmate meet us somewhere neutral before we show up on your doorstep, just in case.”
Translation: If Bryar was using them to get to Pete - which Gabe didn’t think he was, but it never hurt to play things safe - and if he was using Z’s collar to track her, they shouldn’t come anywhere near Pete or Manaka until it was safely disposed of.
“I’ll pass it on,” Pete promised, looking up at him again from his data pad. There was a brief pause in the conversation where they both waited for Gabe to ask about William, and he didn’t. He knew better, after this long. William was gone, or leaving soon, and Gabe wasn’t going to dwell on it. They had rules for a reason, and Gabe had known what he was doing when he’d walked away.
“I’ll check in with you in a few days, find out where we’re meeting up,” Gabe said. “Keep in touch.”
He ended the call and headed back toward the lounge with half-formed plans of reheating his coffee. Victoria caught him before he got there, wearing no-nonsense boots and an expression to match.
“This is the first time we’ve taken on a passenger in a while,” she remarked obliquely. “You all right?”
“Victoria, I’m touched,” he told her, hand over his heart. “Is that genuine concern? Are you offering to take me against your magnificent bosom and ease my sorrows?”
“In your dreams,” she told him coolly. Then she arched an eyebrow and said, “We do still have a bottle of ice-wine, though.”
Gabe slung an arm across her shoulders and steered them in the direction of the lounge, where he could hear Ryland and Alex having a spirited debate with Nate over the effectiveness versus criminal waste of liquor in an alcohol-based fuel pump.
“We’ve got a new passenger on board, that’s reason enough to celebrate,” Gabe said. “Let’s pop the fucking cork.”
-
Epilogue
“A shipment heist?” Gabe repeated, considering Pete on his monitor. “That’s risky even for you.”
“You and Mikeyway used to pull shit like this all the time,” Pete reminded him.
“Not on this scale. It was just him and me, pinching one or two captives on their way to be collared.” Gabe raised his eyebrows pointedly. “You’re talking about hijacking an entire slave ship.”
“Not hijacking, exactly. You’ll be posing as a guard escort for hire, so once you take care of the few wardens on the slave ship itself, all of you can just quietly disappear.” Pete made it sound like it would be just that easy, too. Gabe favored him with a skeptical look, which Pete blithely ignored. “You’ll have help, anyway. I’ve got newbies, I need someone to teach them. You’re the expert.”
“Yeah, about that,” Gabe said.
“Gabe, we’ve just reached rendezvous,” Ryland called back. “There’s another ship trying to get us on radio.”
“Right on time,” Pete said cheerfully.
Gabe stabbed a finger at Pete’s face on the monitor. “You stay there. If anything seems hinky, or if they’re as green as you say and forget all the secret codes you taught them in spy school, I’m going to want verification that they are who they say they are.”
Pete raised his hands in what Gabe interpreted as surrender. Pete had been doing a lot of surrendering lately, and a lot of sending Gabe and the Cobra out on far-reaching, wildly unusual missions. Gabe suspected it was largely due to Pete noticing how restless he’d gotten, over the past nine months. He’d brought back a few more slaves, but it hadn’t been as satisfying, somehow. They’d all been good people, ill-used but hanging onto their sanity and dignity. Not one of them had ever tried to punch him in the face, even once.
A few months in, Pete had started giving him assignments like this one. Underhanded deals with criminals looking to unload human merchandise; smuggling a cargo hold full of slaves all taken at once from some rich bastard’s summer house; and their current assignment: divert a ship crammed with people who were marked for slavery but hadn’t been collared yet.
This was the first time they’d been sent a second ship to assist on a heist, though. And it wasn’t any ship Gabe knew, which suggested that when Pete said newbies, he really meant it.
Gabe switched radio channels, answering the call of the flashing light above his console.
“This is Captain Beckett of the Academy,” a very familiar voice said by way of greeting. It was accompanied by a very familiar face on his screen. For a moment, Gabe just stared. Nine months, no word, and now this.
He punched the channel button and switched back to Pete. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
Pete grinned at him, the cunning, secret-keeping bastard. “In the time he was with you, he ambushed you and half your crew, faced down one of the most dangerous slave mistresses in the galaxy, tricked and captured a four-person pirate crew, and stole your ship right out from under you. What did you think I was going to do with him?”
“You smug asshole,” Gabe told him, grinning now too. “You couldn’t have just told me? You had to be evasive?”
“I was letting him make up his mind before I got your hopes up,” Pete answered. He leered at Gabe as much as someone could through a video monitor and added, “This is his first time. Be gentle with him.”
“Fuck you,” Gabe said cheerfully, and ended the call. “Ryland!” he yelled as he left the radio room. “Initiate docking procedures.” He was grinning like a maniac and he knew it; couldn’t help it and didn’t really want to. “Let’s meet Pete’s new batch of miscreants.”
“It’s not those pirates who attacked us, is it?” Alex asked. “Pete seems creepily fond of them.”
“He’s obsessed,” Gabe agreed. “And no, it’s not. I think he’s got them doing something closer to home base where he can keep an eye on them. This,” he said, clapping Ryland on the shoulder as he passed, “is an old friend.”
Nate met him at the docking hatch. “Trouble?” he asked.
Gabe grinned at him. “Very likely.”
He hit the release for the hatch as soon as the green docking light came on, and stepped back as it opened with a hiss.
William had cut his hair again; it curled in soft strands around his face, making him look even younger than he had nine months ago when Gabe had said goodbye to him at the end of a boarding ramp. He was dressed well but simply, like he was giving a nod to the person he had been while embracing his new life as an upscale rogue. His shirt was open at the collar, no cravat in sight; nothing but pale, smooth, unfettered skin.
“Captain Saporta,” William said, with one of those teasing half-smiles that Gabe remembered so well.
Gabe grinned right back at him. “Captain Beckett,” he said. “Welcome aboard.”