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Escaped slave and radical Genthry is facing down his final moments, bound to the execution platform, when some soul detonates the platform and the prison wall. He didn’t plan it, but he’s more than happy to take the opportunity to escape and thumb his nose at fate yet again. By the time he gets his hands on a ship, the authorities have caught up to him in the form of handsome marshal Dryath Riatt. When a passerby knocks the marshal out, Genthry takes Riatt “hostage” to save him from the angry crowd.
Dryath knew he shouldn’t have thought the job was done, just because he got his hands on escaped killer Genthry. He wasn’t counting on the local crowd jumping in to help the dirtbag escape, the local garrison refusing to lift a finger to help him – or Genthry being possibly the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Now he’s a captive, restrained and flying to some unknown destination with a terrorist who somehow doesn’t make him feel unsafe at all.
When an encounter with pirates forces a sudden landing, Genthry and Dryath are forced to spend time hiding together before either can find safety. Can they overcome their differences, or will these enemies sell each other out before they can find happiness?
This book is part of the Love Among the Stars collection from JMS Books!
Read an Excerpt
Genthry pulled his cloak closer. Half of getting away with these things – with pretty much anything – was attitude. He had no business being out here, in public, with his magenta skin. Every Ayak on Kindara was in danger as long as he remained here, and showing his face was arrogant in the extreme. None of that mattered.
He’d found clothing, and cash, hidden away in a small cave after he fled to the woods. He had no way of knowing if it was meant for him. Plenty of the miners stuck on this miserable rock would have reason to hide, and reason enough to want to a taste of freedom, too. He decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. If he found out later on he’d hurt someone by taking the stash, he’d find a way to repay them.
In the meantime, he and every other Ayak on the planet needed him to get gone.
So, he walked through the marketplace with his head held high underneath the voluminous hood, and his back straight. It didn’t exactly stand out in this part of town. Most people who ventured out in public weren’t engaged in business they wanted associated with their legal name or face.
Assuming they had a legal name, of course. It was an awfully big assumption here, all things considered.
He glided among the shadows cast by the tall, nondescript gray buildings. Someone had tried to give some of them color, but the constant battery of gritty wind made sure none of it lasted. Even the sand was gray on this dump. He couldn’t wait to put this place behind him. Even if he hadn’t had his near-death experience to spur him on, he’d want to get gone. He needed to be someplace else, and that was all there was to it.
He found the nondescript gray building he was looking for and glided through the automatic sliding doors. The place looked like a seedy grocery store, not much different from any other in a crappy neighborhood like this. The shelves held mostly dust, along with sealed pouches of goo that purported to taste like this vegetable or that meat – whatever form of sustenance any given species might be used to.
They were all lies, of course. They all tasted roughly like paste. But they filled the belly and provided energy, which was all they were supposed to do. If a slave died from malnutrition, no one cared.
He strode through the shelves as though he owned the place and stood on a slightly discolored tile near the back. The scrawny girl behind the counter didn’t really look at him, nor did he want her to. She’d find herself in trouble for knowing he’d been there, even if all she knew was that “some man” showed up. When the dingy wall panel slid open, he stepped through without a backward glance. If the girl had any curiosity at all, he never knew.
The door closed behind Genthry immediately. In the middle of a workday, there weren’t many people in the hidden bar. The bartender was an Aerul, and his head bore a deep dent in it from some prior incident. Genthry had his suspicions about the source of that dent, but he supposed he had a bias. He spotted a few Graylau sitting around near one end of the bar, and a lone Bsinn woman dancing listlessly in a cage near the back of the room. A couple of scarred, unwholesome-looking humans lurked at a table a short distance from the Graylau. Genthry vowed to give them a wide berth.
He approached the bartender, who eyed him up and down. “What’ll it be?” His voice was grated against the air like broken glass. Mine dust had torn up his lungs then. Genthry had heard it all too often.
“Whiskey, please.” He slid his coins across the counter. Every so often the Republic tried to force people to use credit, but it never took. Eventually they would have to reconcile the demand that everyone pay their own way with the desire for a monetary system that required legal names and identities. In the meantime, cash continued to flourish, and Genthry continued to laugh at them.
The gray skinned Aerul grunted and shuffled off to the shelf. It was, of course, illegal for a non-human to drink actual whiskey. It was illegal for this bar to exist. Genthry would laugh, if he weren’t so tired of it all.
The bartender returned with the whiskey, but eyed Genthry before handing it over. “I don’t want no trouble.”
Ah. Genthry’s disguise had been a little too efficient. He let just enough of his cloak fall back to reveal the skin on his wrist. “No trouble from me, friend. I’m just here to meet someone and I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can be on my merry way.”
The Aerul’s eyes widened, and he coughed heavily. “You’re him, aren’t you?”
Genthry put a finger to his lips. “I don’t want anyone else hurt. Like I said, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can find a ship. I know what happened complicated everything.”
“Maybe a little.” The Aerul wheezed a little and passed Genthry his coin back. “Your money’s no good here. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.” He passed the whiskey over, grabbed the bottle, and topped it off. “Screw the Republic.”
Genthry grinned and thanked the man. He didn’t want to eat into anyone’s profits, but he knew better than to insult an Aerul by refusing a gift. And he had to admit it felt good to see someone he’d helped surviving and thriving free. “I’ll happily drink to that.”
A human would be drunk with the amount of whiskey the Aerul had given him. Ayaks didn’t get drunk, but they could synthesize extra energy from alcohol. With this glass before him, Gentry wouldn’t need to sleep for at least two days. The human half of him might notice some improvement in mood, but that was it.
He lifted the glass to his lips as the bartender went to tend to the Graylau customers. They didn’t seem like the friendliest of souls, but Graylau never did. They kept their distance from Genthry and he from them. They were probably just being cautious, but Genthry had just as much reason for reserve as they did. And it wasn’t like the slavers didn’t have allies among the people they exploited.
One of the humans approached, eyes narrow. Genthry tensed. He knew he was supposed to meet someone here, but he didn’t know who. The human didn’t look trustworthy, not that any of them did. This one had long, greasy hair and a patchy beard. It wasn’t just his face that made something deep in Genthry’s gut twist. It was his smell. Kindara was a cold, barren rock suitable only for mining and incarceration. The man didn’t have much in the way of dust on him – no more than anyone else who walked outside for a few minutes, and no human worked in the mines.
It was more or less impossible for a human to sweat enough to smell this bad, and yet here this guy was.
Fortunately, the low lighting and Genthry’s cowl made his revulsion invisible. “Good afternoon.”
“You’re a friend of Keaton’s, then?” The human scratched himself.
Keaton wasn’t a person. Keaton didn’t exist except as a code word. Whatever else this man might be, he did know Genthry’s contacts. Oh well – beggars couldn’t be choosers, and at least Genthry wouldn’t be tempted by anything resembling desire.
“That’s me. I’m here to see about a package.” Genthry sipped from his drink.
The human’s eyes widened a little as he saw Genthry drink. He knew he could pass for a human, if short, when his skin was covered. A human drinking that much whiskey would be easy prey for a scammer, if he didn’t fall under the table first. Either Mr. Fragrance would do the math, or he would try to pull a fast one.
Genthry couldn’t afford to be too picky about the ship he chose, though. As long as it got him off world, he’d have to be content. If worse came to worst, he could scrap it and use the proceeds to buy something better later on.
“Well, once you’ve finished your drink we’ll head out to the yard and see what we can find. I have to say, there’s not too much out there available for a man such as yourself, but we’ll see what we can find.” The human patted him on the shoulder in what was probably supposed to be an affable gesture. “I assume you’ll be paying in cash.”
No one who patronized establishments like this used credit, not ever. “Of course. I don’t need much, just something for myself and perhaps a small cargo.”
The human sniggered, like he’d been in the same situation. “I understand. I might be able to hook you up with a shipment to bring to Bimmo, if you’re interested. It’s not much, but the pay should more than cover fuel and life support.”
“Every little bit helps.” Genthry considered the offer. Bimmo wasn’t the kind of planet he tended to frequent. The population was mostly human and very fashionable, which meant wealthy and of course extremely conservative. Genthry had little use for such people. At the same time, Bimmo would be the last place the authorities would think to look for him. And the slaves on Bimmo needed liberation just as much as the slaves anyplace else.