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Tom sighed, wondering if Da’shay even understood the concept
of bargaining.

“Five hundred for Tom,” Hou finally said. He sounded pretty
damn disgusted about it too. For a second, Tom thought Da’shay was going to go
back to insisting on seven hundred, but with a frown, she nodded. He wasn’t
sure why she was unhappy; five hundred credits just to reimburse Tom was damn
good.

“No establishment of formal precedent. Fee based only on
assumption that this human provides exceptional service.”

Da’shay gave a little shrug. “Agreed. Captain Ramsay
illogically assumes that attack precludes negotiation, so the probabilities
suggest he will not attempt to assert any claim for those within his hierarchy.”

“No attempt at collection despite precedent in the assigning
of monies?” Hou reared back, and for a second, Tom thought he was attacking.
Then Hou slowly settled back down into his seat, looking a lot more pleased.

Da’shay sat quietly for a moment, but then she started
giving him a predatory smile, one that made Tom’s skin crawl as the sensation
of danger made all the hair on his arms stand up. “I was fourth crew. Precedent
dictates compensation for me.”

Tom was pretty sure Hou changed color as he swore colorfully
in alien-talk. It really was amazing how all curse words sounded the same no
matter the language. After that, Da’shay and Hou broke into negotiations so
fast that Tom couldn’t even hope to follow. By the time they were done, he was
pretty sure Da’shay was getting three thousand, and considering the Corps had
paid all their bills, that was flat out impressive.

When Hou pulled a desk drawer open, he carefully leaned back
and let Tom see the money inside before he reached for it. “Efficient. I’ll play
extra four hundred for possession of him.”

“No.”

“Four fifty.”

Da’shay didn’t answer and Tom’s guts turned to ice. All she
had to do was say “yes” and he’d be traded off like a spare part. Captains had
done that, passing Tom along when it seemed as if he wasn’t a good fit with
crew, but at each change, Tom had the choice to walk away and go back to
freighters or, hell, take up with smugglers. Here, he didn’t have a choice.

Leaning forward, Da’shay studied Hou. “Coterie of two
becomes exile when one is lost. Try to buy him again and I will have him kill
you.” It was about the most direct thing Tom had ever heard her say and he
could feel the chill as the truth of it hit him, and he wasn’t even the one
being threatened. Hou nodded and started counting out their money. Da’shay put
the rest in her bag stood up and started for the door. She’d opened it before
she turned to look at Tom. She didn’t say anything, but she stood there staring
at him long enough to make herself a target.

“You get clear. I’ll come out after,” Tom said, keeping his
weapon trained on Hou’s head. This was always the most dangerous part of any
deal. As cops, they had to buy and sell from smugglers and money dealers, and
people did all sorts of crazy things when the credits walked out the door. Most
times Tom covered the crew from a distance, but even here, it was his job to
make sure the crew and the money got out the door safely.

Hou turned his chair and looked at Tom with pursed lips. The
man was probably trying to figure out ways to disembowel him without pissing
off Da’shay, but Tom’s weapon didn’t waver.

“To deny a potential ally of a coterie,” Hou said slowly as
he looked over toward Da’shay, “would offend; however, were you to find a
hierarchy of value, please do keep my interest in mind.”

“Tom, come,” Da’shay said softly. “Cat’s cradle all pulled
loose into one long string, not pretty, but not knotted.”

Tom frowned and risked a quick glance over. She had the bag
with the credits slung over one shoulder and she was holding out a hand toward
him. With a frown, Tom backed away from Hou. As much as he didn’t like giving
Hou a chance to counterattack, he had promised to follow her lead, so he
slipped his gun back into its holster as he backed away. When he reached
Da’shay, she reached out and caught his leash and then turned and headed out
through the lobby.

“I’m not a poodle,” Tom complained softly.

“Human attempts at genetic purification have resulted in
Progressive Retinal Atrophy, Legg-Calve’-Perthes and Patella Sub-luxation in
standard breeds of poodle.”

“What? You ain’t making any sense.”

“You aren’t inbred.”

Tom looked at her, wondering whether it was him being stupid
or whether she really was making less sense than normal. She walked past the
secretary without a glance toward him and Tom sure as hell wasn’t one for
apologies, even if he did feel a little guilty. The secretary struck him as the
helpless sort, not only because of being a slave, but also because he was small
enough that a ten-year-old girl could take him if she had a real good cause,
and that wasn’t the sort he normally approved of bullying.

“The talk about me being a poodle? That was my way of saying
I don’t like you holding that chain,” Tom pointed out. He’d never been in a
situation where he couldn’t walk away, not for many years, at least. That chain
was a reminder of things he didn’t really need reminding of. Unfortunately,
Da’shay was not having one of her better days. She tilted her head as if she
was listening to him, but she kept right on walking, the chain taut between
them.

Tom sighed. He was quickly discovering that bunk fantasies
and reality were very different beasts. Plenty of times he’d had a few
fantasies about a woman keeping him on a leash, but he’d been a good sight more
happy about it in his fantasy. This just felt awkward.

He hated slavery as much as the next soldier—more probably.
Lots of Corps members objected more out of policy than any deep-set hatred of
slavers. But from the first time Tom had seen a slave ship with all those
people clinging to their cages, their fingers hooked around the wire mesh, he’d
had a real special hate for it. That was why sometimes he didn’t understand
himself, because even hating slavery, he did have a good number of fantasies
that looked a lot like it.

Tom used to fantasize about Becca. He’d imagine coming into
the main thruster compartment and find she’d rigged the doors to lock him in
there where none of the crew could hear him over the compression valves, and
she’d tell him that she’d always wanted to experiment on him the way she did
the engines, and she’d make him cuff himself to some piece of equipment.

Fantasies like that had gotten Tom through a lot of lonely
nights. Now though, all those fantasies were just about ruined because having a
collar on wasn’t the same as the bunk fantasy. It was…Tom almost snorted out
loud as the answer came to him. It was cat’s cradle. He hated the collar. Hated
it. But the second he’d made the deal to follow Da’shay, a calm had come over
him like he hadn’t felt before. Right or wrong, he’d made a choice and now all
the choices were gone, so he was one of them useless cars that could only go
around and around on the track set in the floor. They put kids in those and
made them think they were steering when the car really could only follow the
track, and as uninteresting as it was to ride on a track, you couldn’t crash.
For the first time in a long time, Tom wasn’t afraid he was about to crash.

Oh Tom knew full well that Da’shay might get them killed
easy as not, but it wouldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be the one getting them
killed. The collar and the mark made sure of that and it was a relief to know
that. He didn’t even know where they were going. Watching the crowds as they
rode down elevators and escalators into the dirtier and darker parts of the
city, Tom didn’t know if she was ready to go back to Ramsay or even if she was
about to go to a slave auction and drop him off to sell before disappearing
with the credits.

With nothing else to worry about, Tom studied the growing
crowds looking for any signs of danger.

Da’shay led them down escalators and elevators until they
were starting to get into more familiar territory for Tom. The windows vanished
and the shops grew more and more crowded. A shop window caught her eye and she
stopped, the bag slowly sliding off her arm to rest against the ground as she
considered a wide selection of knives. Tom eyed the bag and wondered how likely
she was to just put it down and forget it. Probably too likely.

“Maybe it’d be best if I took charge of this,” Tom
suggested. Da’shay surrendered the bag without even a comment.

Tom slung the bag over his shoulder, bracing his left arm
over the open top to make sure that no one had access to the contents. Then he
waited. “Are we going to just stand here all day?” he asked. Da’shay looked
around at the crowds of people walking or standing in shop doors or lingering
in odd angles created by the uneven walls of the tunnel.

“Diamonds all around. Sharp edges like beads on a curtain
ready to cut
genta
girl all up,” she said. Tom stared at her, not even
sure where to start on that bit of insanity. Slowly, her gaze shifted to him.
“Going to the ship,” she whispered.

“The
Kratos
?”

She nodded.

Tom could feel relief rush through him. He could deal with
her getting stranger by the minute as long as he knew they were headed for the
ship. She reached out to him, curling long fingers around his arm and pulling
him close.

“Only to Ramsay. Little mice chew holes in the words. Only
Ramsay.” Her fingers dug into his arm. “My leash.” She tugged at the leash hard
enough to pull at Tom’s collar. He swallowed as emotions he couldn’t even
identify surged up. “Get us to Ramsay,” she whispered. Using her free hand, she
caught Tom’s leash up near his shoulder blades.

“To Ramsay,” Tom agreed. Turning, he headed into the crowd.
The pressure at his collar was a constant now, just enough to remind him that
he was towing her. In Hou’s office, she’d been a formidable opponent, but now
she was lost and Tom couldn’t reconcile the two sides. He probably never would.
Right now, he needed to get back to Ramsay and let him figure this whole mess
out. With one arm on the bag and the other hand on his gun, Tom shouldered his
way through the crowds and headed for the shuttle that would take them out to
the docks.

They were to the level where ship workers crowded the
streets looking for drugs and doxies when the collar tightened and Da’shay
pulled Tom to a stop. He turned and looked at her, fully prepared to be
annoyed, but her body language warned of danger. Her elbows were bent and her
head lowered like an animal about to attack. Before, her gaze had wandered from
place to place without reason; now she kept her eyes focused on a parts
store—the sort that bought and sold bits for engines that should have been
scrapped decades ago.

Tom backed up, pushing Da’shay toward the side of the
street. A clothing store stuck out farther than the bar next to it, creating a
handy little corner that offered some cover, and that’s where Tom steered them.

“Who’s there?” Tom asked, not really expecting a simple
answer. He pulled his gun and waited. Times like this he almost wished that he
carried those fancy guns, the ones with scanners that let people see through
walls. The only problem with those fancy-ass guns is that they broke too damn
often and they weren’t something a man could fix himself. That was a bad
combination in the field.

If there was danger here, he didn’t have much in the way of
backup. Based on the vids he’d seen, Da’shay could fight like a demon, but that
was only if she managed to concentrate long enough to get the job done.

Without warning, Da’shay stepped out from their cover and
started walking toward the parts store. “Damn it, get back here,” Tom called.
She ignored him and the leash started pulling tight. Well shit. No fucking way
was he going to get hauled around like some stubborn dog. With his gun still
out and held at his side, Tom trotted until he was in front of Da’shay and
closing in on the store. This was a bad idea, but Da’shay wasn’t giving him a
whole lot of options.

Tom pulled the door open, but he stayed behind the wall for
a couple of seconds, long enough to confuse any trouble inside. But no one came
to see what was up, so hopefully he wasn’t walking into a room full of enemies.
Edging around the corner, Tom spotted two men who had a third cornered by a
shelf with compression valves lined up like art.

“Pretend you might know,” a voice said.

Abandoning caution, Tom stepped into the room and looked
around. A clerk was standing behind the counter, but he had a panicked
expression, so he wasn’t likely to have a weapon. Tom slid his own gun back
into its holster.

“Captain,” Tom said.

The man who’d been talking spun around and Captain Ramsay
was standing there with Eli at his side. The two of them had Messa Tyles backed
up against the shelf.

“Tom.” Ramsay stepped forward. “What the hell are you
wearing?” Tom gritted his teeth as he realized his stupid outfit was even more
out of place down here. Not only did he look like a rentboy, but he looked like
an out-of-place, expensive one.

Da’shay stepped out from behind him. “Searching. Lost the
captain in all the maze,” Da’shay said. Rumor was
genta
didn’t lie, but
that did seem to imply they’d gotten lost in that maze of a prison and Tom knew
that to be wrong. However, he didn’t really want to get into that with eyes
watching them.

Messa Tyles inched sideways. “You have your man. I can’t
tell you anything. I don’t know anything,” he said. He seemed to have gotten
his last wound fixed, but he had the wild-eyed look of panic that meant he
truly believed he was about to get another hole in his hide.

“He holding out on you?” Tom asked. He wasn’t sure what the
captain had come back to ask about.

“Nope, can’t say he is. Da’shay, you’ve had Tom this whole
time?”

Da’shay started wandering around the shop, letting her
fingers trail over the parts lined up for sale. “Yep, she’s been with me since
the law took me,” Tom answered for her.

“That her mark?” Eli kept looking over, his eyes going to
the mark that Tom’s shirt did nothing to hide.

Tom crossed his arms. “Ain’t you got a prisoner to look to?”
he asked. Eli might be his superior, but Tom didn’t put up with anyone’s shit.

Ramsay sighed. “Tyles, I suppose I should thank you for your
help.”

“I’d prefer it if you just never asked for it again,” Tyles
answered, and then he headed out the door, leaving behind the faint smell of
booze and fear.

Ramsay watched him leave and then he turned his attention to
Tom. “I swear, you’re a hard one to keep out of trouble, Tom Frieden.” Ramsay
stepped close and slapped Tom on the arm, his eyes carefully focused on Tom’s
face, as though if he looked somewhere else he might end up staring at the
slave mark by accident. “Where did they get you?”

The collar pulled tight and Tom looked over toward Da’shay,
but she was wandering around and he couldn’t tell if she had pulled on the
collar or simply lost track of how long it was.

“Didn’t get far from where we split up,” Tom said carefully.
Da’shay seemed to smile and that right there was enough to put Tom on edge. She
wanted him to speak carefully and it sure as hell wasn’t because of Ramsay;
she’d said they needed to get to the captain, but in these port towns, a person
never did know who was listening. Da’shay’s fucking crazy people might have the
whole lower town bugged. From a security standpoint, that meant for a lot of
footage to try to pick through looking for what you wanted, but they might just
be keeping an eye on Da’shay. After all, she was the one with the information they
didn’t want told.

“You let her mark you?” Eli sounded as if he might be ill at
the thought and Tom glared at the man.

“There weren’t much ‘letting’ going on. Law caught me, so it
was her mark or getting sold at auction, and that was not going to happen.”

“Tom’s mine,” Da’shay offered as she ran her fingers over a
display of octagonal drive shafts.

“I’m not in favor of slaving.” Ramsay frowned, looking from
one of them to the other. “I just came to get money for the deal we lost, so
don’t think I’m going to let you keep Tom on the leash when we go back to
running the border.” Tom could feel his guts start to ease up. Ramsay
understood. There was something going on that Tom didn’t understand and Da’shay
couldn’t explain, but Ramsay was going to stick to their cover story until they
could get back to the ship.

“And I’m really not in favor of how you’re dressing, Tom.”
Ramsay looked to Tom and got a mean smile on his face. “Not unless you’ve
decided to take a second job as one of those men in the vids that’s always
walking on the beach having sex with women.” Ramsay headed for the door.

Tom snorted. “Would rather cut off my balls.” Tom frowned.
Wait. That might not be such a bad job to have, he thought. Da’shay’s head
whipped around and she stared at him for a long moment before she went for the
door. Ramsay and Eli had to chase after them.

“I would have thought you would cut your own balls off
already before dressing like that,” Ramsay said as he walked at Tom’s side and
looked at the crowd on the dark streets. The cave-like feeling made Tom want to
run for the ship, but Da’shay had slowed considerably and now they all strolled
toward the train station where the shuttle-train took people between town and
the docks. Tom kept pace with him.

“It was this or no shirt at all.” Tom might have said more,
only Da’shay came over and rested her hand on Tom’s shoulder and leaned into
him, bringing their whole group to a stop. Tom looked at her, trying to
understand her expression. Her eyes were half closed and she was swaying
slightly. “You all right?”

She closed her eyes. “Pretty colors,” she whispered.
Ramsay’s eyebrows went up.

“She hasn’t gotten any more sane in the last few days,” Tom
said without mentioning their night in the desert.

Ramsay took a step closer. “I don’t expect she ever will.
Did you ever wonder whether something could go really wrong with someone
engineered by a full-
genta
?” Ramsay asked. Instead of getting insulted
by the suggestion she’d been made wrong, Da’shay laid her head on Tom’s
shoulder and blinked at Ramsay with her most innocent expression.

“I had considered it,” Tom agreed. The fact was that Da’shay
was starting to make a little too much sense to him, though. She had something
mighty smart going on in her brain, but her mouth just wasn’t letting it come
out right. That left her about as tangled and trapped as Tom was. Da’shay
fingers tightened around his arm. “But right now, I just want to get back to
the ship and get some of my old clothes on.”

“I like these clothes. Pretty mark warns everyone to look to
me because Tom’s mine,” Da’shay said.

Ramsay made a face. “That is truly disquieting. Nearly as
disquieting as having Tom run around half-naked.”

“Ain’t my fault. You want to put someone on deck-scrubbing
duty for that, you blame Da’shay.”

“Think she would scrub my deck?” Ramsay asked with a smile.
The familiar banter made the knots in Tom’s back start to loosen. Ramsay turned
toward the shuttle, but he watched over his shoulder to see if Tom and Da’shay
were following.

“Hell, no,” Tom answered. He frowned when his collar
tightened the second he tried to take a step. Da’shay was looking at him with a
frown, her hand wrapped around his leash. “Something wrong, princess?” Tom
asked.

“Princess?” Ramsay’s laugh was tight and uncomfortable.
“Maybe slavery taught you a thing or two.”

“Seemed better than calling her pea-brain,” Tom said
vaguely. This wasn’t the time to get into the fact that someone had gone
operating on her brain to pull pieces out and making fun of her, for that
seemed flat out mean. Tom looked over and Ramsay was still staring at him. “At
least until we’re off a slave-planet. Once we’re back to free space, I figure I
can safely call her whatever I want.”

Ramsay smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes.
After a second, Da’shay stroked a hand down his arm and then started walking
toward the shuttle so fast that Tom had to hurry to keep the leash from
pulling.

“Well, shit,” Ramsay said as he hurried after. “She’s even
stranger than before. Either that or you pissed her off.”

“So, what are you two doing threatening Tyles?” Tom asked,
changing the topic once Da’shay had slowed a bit. They were still walking a
little too fast for Tom’s liking—it made it hard to really check all the
possible vantage points for an attack. At least this system of caves and
tunnels carved out of rock made it more difficult for snipers.

“Looking for you,” Ramsay said. “Law says the person you
wronged has first right when it comes slaving and we thought Hou had you
somewhere.”

Tom frowned as he thought of Hou getting him, either after
the explosion or when he’d offered Da’shay good money. Tom had no idea what a
genta
like that would want with a gun hand, but if he tried to turn Tom into a
sniveling little thing like that secretary, Tom would kill Hou and then
himself.

“Da’shay paid the fines. You know most folks won’t get in an
argument with a
genta
unless they have to.”

“And for a man who reportedly blew us up, Hou didn’t seem
interested in us,” Ramsay finished. “Eli, have you called home, told Becca that
we found her wayward boy?”

“Yes sir,” Eli agreed, lifting his handheld. “I never
thought a woman could squeal through text, but she did.”

“She’s been unnaturally unpleasant ever since I lost you,”
Ramsay admitted. “Is there something that I should know about?”

“Like what?”

“Like are you sleeping with my engineer?”