Captain’s Claimed Property
Hollie Hutchins
Contents
1. The Apprentice
2. The Chase
3. Safe Travels
4. Captivity
5. The Beautiful Engineer
6. A Trip to the Doctor’s
7. Getting to Know the Crew
8. Secrets
9. The Escape Plan
10. Grendle Port 6
11. The Dragon
12. One Man’s Trash
13. Keep Your Enemies Closer
14. Acceptance
15. The Human and the Gearnan
16. The Human and the Kylen
17. Passion
18. The Aftermath
19. Bridging the Gap
20. Working Girl
21. Rumours, Raids, and Revenge
22. New Beginnings
23. The Slipsteam’s Last Ride
24. No More Games
25. Goodbye for Now
26. Calling Home
27. The Beautiful Engineer and Her Captain
More By Hollie
Let’s Be Friends!
Copyright
1
The Apprentice
Sarah coughed as she crawled out from underneath the decrepit piece of space metal, formally known as a StarKisser 3000. She had accidentally unleashed a good handful’s worth of dust while trying to disengage one of the fuel pumps, and with a surprised gulp, she sucked most of it down into her lungs. In addition to the busted pump, the ancient ship was sporting a slew of electrical shortages, two snapped antennas, and an offensive sticker on the front window which showed the outline of a sexy, purple alien woman bent over in a compromising position. Sarah made a face as she wiped the grease off her hands and headed over to the haggle with the young male Haraldie who brought the hunk of junk in to be fixed five minutes before closing. Bernie had left Sarah in charge for the first time since taking her on as an apprentice. She was supposed to finish taking inventory, double check the day’s work orders, and call Bernie if any new customers happened to drop in during the last half hour before closing.
“Looks like you’ve really put this thing through the wringer.” Sarah grabbed a new invoice sheet off of Bernie’s makeshift desk and work table. “It will take a me few days to get her all patched up, and you’re uh, looking at about 200 pinches for the whole job.”
“200!” The Haraldie spat a little as he repeated her estimate, and his three yellow eyes narrowed. “Are you out of your mind! At any other port the repairs wouldn’t be a pinch over 75!”
“Ha! What market reports have you been tuning into?” Sarah started documenting the necessary replacement parts and the labor costs while the rough-scaled alien paced back and forth, mumbling racist human slurs under his breath. “I hate to break it to you, sir, but your ship is…outdated. And I’m sure a proud StarKisser owner like yourself knows better than anyone how difficult it is to find Kisser compatible fuel pumps. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the lowest I’m willing to go is 180. Take it or leave it.”
The Haraldie snatched the invoice out of Sarah’s hand and bitterly reviewed every word. While two of his eyes scanned the page, his third eye, which sat smack-dab in the middle of his moist forehead, scanned upward and gave Sarah a good sizing up.
“Aren’t you a little young to be running your own ship shop?”
“Aren’t you a bit desperate to be haggling over repair prices?” She reached up and grabbed her mess of curly blond hair, and with one quick motioned, tied it up using only her pen and whatever grease she had left on her hands.
“Alls I’m saying, girly,” the Haraldie took a step closer towards Sarah, “is that this port is infamously dangerous. If I had a pinch for every unfortunate tale I heard that began with ‘so we was on Reeveral Port,’ well, hell, I’d have enough money to pay for your overpriced repairs and still have enough left over to buy you as well.”
Sarah made direct eye contact with the Haraldie for the first time. “I’m not for sale.”
“Well, sure, not now. But Reeveral is a hot bed for pirates and those Kylen maniacs, is it not? A pretty little human girl like yourself…It won’t be long.”
“Are you leaving your ship or not?”
The Haraldie smiled. His yellowish teeth were all crooked and bent at odd angles, like he’d lost a few and had some shoddy underground dental repairs. He reached into his left pocket, prompting Sarah to step back. She slowly extended her hand behind her, trying to quietly reach for something metal and heavy from her toolbox. If it came down to it, she didn’t stand a chance against the seven-foot-tall alien, but that wasn’t going to stop her from putting up a fight. Just as her fingers wrapped around the cool handle of her trusty wrench, the Haraldie pulled from his pocket a leather pinch pouch, and threw it at Sarah.
“175. That’s all I got.”
Sarah, who just barely managed to catch the pouch, hesitatingly poured its contents out onto the desk and began counting. Usually she would count twice; nothing irritated Bernie more than losing money over a simple miscount. However, seeing as the Haraldie’s third eye had been fixed on her chest for the past few seconds, and the large alien was inching closer with each pinch counted, she decided one count through would suffice.
“Great. It should be done in a few days. You can stop by for a progress report tomorrow if you’d like, but for now, I’m closing up shop, so if you wouldn’t mind…” Sarah smiled and motioned towards the door. The Haraldie gave her one last flash of a smile, winked his third eye, and left.
Unable to contain her laughter, Margaret spit a mouthful of caffie-drink right onto the restaurant floor just as Sarah was reaching the climax of her story.
“I’m sorry,” the young halfsie woman wiped a tear from her eye while trying to catch her breath, “Your plan was to beat the Haraldie with a wrench?”
“Well…maybe. I don’t know!” Sarah reached for her own caffie-drink and downed the last half a cup in one sip. “What would you have done?”
“Not let the Haraldie into the shop in the first place,” Braya chimed in. “I mean, seriously, what are you going to tell Bernie?”
“Just tell him the truth,” Margaret interrupted. “He should be happy! You got him more business, didn’t you? It’s not like he’s really in a position to be turning away customers, even if they are skeezy, Haraldie swine.”
“First of all, not all Haraldies are like that.” Sarah sighed. “And secondly, you know Bernie won’t see it like that. He specifically told me to call him if any new customers came.”
“So why didn’t you?” Braya asked disapprovingly.
“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to prove myself. He’s been keeping me on desk duty for months. Hasn’t once let me pick up a tool. I mean, what’s the point of apprenticing in a ship shop if I’m never going to get to work on a ship!”
“What do you expect? You’re still in school, and he’s liable if anything happens to one of the ships in his shop.”
“I know, I know. But it’s not just that. I swear, Bernie treats me like a little kid sometimes.”
“And here I always thought you guys had more of a will-they, won’t-they romance dynamic going on.” Margaret smiled coyly and tucked some of her long dark hair behind her purple spotted ears. Margaret was half human, half alien—half Para to be exact, which was a species of aliens famous for their striking purple skin tone and general lack of emotional depth. Luckily, Margaret’s mother had been a particularly empathetic and patient human, so even though Margaret was half-Para, she still possessed the ability to sympathize with, and care about others, though she often did so through teasing and inappropriate jokes.
“Gr
oss!” Braya said. “Bernie is old enough to be her dad!”
“Plus he’s married,” Sarah added.
“Oh c’mon!” Margaret scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it! He’s handsome, in a rugged, honest day’s work kind of way!”
Braya folded her arms matter-of-factly. “I prefer men my own age, thank you very much. Besides, I don’t trust your opinions on sexual matters anymore, ever since you said you thought Kylen guys were hot.”
“You said what?” Sarah gawked.
“Kind of hot! I said kind of!” Margaret aggressively pointed a finger at Braya. “And you swore you would never repeat that.”
“You know I can’t keep secrets!”
“Kylen guys? As in the hideous blue-horned dragon men? The ones that pillage ports, kidnap women, and will kill a person just for speaking in the wrong dialect? You find those…things attractive?”
“I thought that dialect thing was just a myth,” Braya murmured.
“Oh no.” Sarah lowered her voice. “It’s true. Bernie tells me stories of when he used to work as an engineer on a Kylen ship. There’re four different dialects, and if you address someone using the wrong one, they have grounds to kill you. No questions asked.”
“That’s barbaric!” Braya’s eyes sparkled with newfound fear. “I knew they were violent, but I didn’t know they were ruthless.”
“Yup, they’re ruthless, and according to Margaret, they’re totally sexy.”
“Okay, okay.” Margaret threw her hands up in defeat. “I take it back. Kylen are nothing but a bunch of bloodthirsty, flea-ridden mongrels. Happy?”
Braya shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I’ll be happy when we change the subject.”
“Actually, now that you mention it, we need to talk about our project for Unconventional Ship Design.” Sarah reached for her bag and pulled out a notebook. “How do you guys feel about using alternative sources of fuel for our topic?”
“Works for me! Margaret?”
The halfsie woman leaned back in her chair and yawned, “Sure. Whatever. But if we’re going to start talking homework, I’m going to need more caffie-drink. You two hit the books and I’ll go grab us a fresh pot.”
Margaret got up and walked towards the front counter and promptly started flirting with the teenage alien boy working the register.
Sarah glanced her way and laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think she’ll be much help on the homework front tonight.”
2
The Chase
Sarah’s hands shook a bit as she walked home from the café. It was well past midnight and the streets were beginning to empty. In an attempt to make sufficient progress on their project before the start of their holiday break next week, the three girls had worked late, pouring cup after cup of caffie-drink. The combination of skipping dinner and copious amounts of caffeine was making Sarah’s stomach hurt, and her skin tingle. She quickened her pace as she turned the corner onto her street.
As her feet hurried, her mind wandered, and she couldn’t help thinking about what Margaret had said. Sarah had only ever seen a Kylen at a distance. A group of them landed on Reeveral Port a few months back, their clunky, broken down ship basically crashed as they made their way into dock 42. She and Bernie, along with every other dock worker, heard the screech of metal-on-metal, followed by the shotgun sound of an engine being blown. She ran out of the shop behind Bernie just in time to see four young Kylen men exit the ship. They were tall and muscular, and they walked with the sort of unyielding confidence that can only be acquired through decades of abusing power. She remembered standing up on her tiptoes to try to get a better view. Bernie had grabbed her shoulders and steered her away from the crowd.
“Nothing to see here. It’s time to go home.” He directed her towards the shop.
“Hey! Bernie what are you –”
“I want you to go home. Now. Your shift is over.”
“But–”
“They will be coming in the shop for repairs. They always do. And when they come, you need to be as far away from here as possible.” Bernie opened the shop door and firmly, but not unkindly, pushed Sarah inside.
“I could help.”
“You could get yourself killed, that’s what you could do.”
Bernie grabbed Sarah’s bag off of the desk and tossed it to her.
“Will you just slow down a second.” Sarah went to put her bag down.
“No, I will not slow down!” Bernie pushed her bag back into her hands and guided her towards the back door of the shop. “You don’t understand, these guys are extremely temperamental, and they will kill you at the slightest offence—intentional or not. And if they don’t kill you, they will kidnap you, and sell you. I don’t think I have to explain what happens then…”
“But what about you?” Sarah was holding back tears as the weight of the situation began to dawn on her.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Just leave now.”
Sarah tried asking Bernie about that day a few weeks later, but he just shrugged and told her it was nothing she needed to concern herself with. He was wrong, she thought. Sooner or later, she was bound to have a run in with a Kylen, and it would be better if she were prepared. It would be better if people stopped treating her like a delicate flower and started to trust her with the knowledge of the world she lives in.
Two buildings down from her own, Sarah’s inner monologue was interrupted by the soft, yet distinctive shuffle of feet behind her. Without breaking her gait, Sarah chanced a glance over her shoulder, just in time to catch a flash of black coat fabric as something darted behind the side of the building behind her. Sarah was suddenly flooded with the sour, poignant sense of dread, and she broke into a run.
While making her way up the front steps of her building, taking them two at a time, Sarah struggled to get her house key ready. The creature was running towards her, making some sort of guttural, growling sound, and smiling with a row full of knife-like teeth. The key missed once, twice, and slipped in the third time. Sarah hurried inside her building, slamming the door behind her. The creature slowly approached the front door and gazed in at Sarah through the window. Up close, she realized it was a Selachi, and based on the fancy coat and abundant amount of jewelry he was sporting, it appeared he was a grade-A mugger. The Selachi ran his tongue greedily along one of several rows that made up his serrated smile, winked, and ran down the steps into the night.
It took a few seconds for Sarah to catch her breath and to feel comfortable releasing her tight grip on the door handle.
Once in her apartment, she put a kettle on and drew a boiling hot bath.
The shrill ring of her cell phone rudely interrupted Sarah’s pleasant dream. Groaning with discontent, she rolled over and answered unhappily.
“Hello.”
“Sarah, sweetie, it’s your mother.”
“Hello, Mom.”
“I didn’t wake you did I? It’s ten o'clock, Sarah, do you truly sleep in this late?”
“I had a long night.”
“Are you okay?” Her mother’s tone shifted to one of concern, “Are you sick?”
“No, I’m not sick. I just…didn’t sleep well.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Sarah sighed. “Mom, seriously, it’s not a big deal.”
“I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark, Sarah.”
“Fine, if I tell you, do you promise not to overreact?”
“I never overreact to stuff. If anything, you underreact to stuff!”
“Mom…”
“Alright, alright. I’ll stay calm. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Sarah took a deep breath and went into the kitchen to make some caffie-drink. There was no way she would be able to handle her mother’s inevitable frenzy without the aid of something strong and hot. Once the machine was heating up, Sarah began to relay the events of the past night.
Fifteen minutes and two full cups of caffie-drink late
r, her mother was in the middle of a full-blown fit.
“You’re coming home today!” Sarah could hear the sound of her parents’ ancient computer system booting up. It had been given to them as a wedding present over twenty-five years ago. “How quickly can you pack up?”
“Mom, I can’t come home today. I have schoolwork to finish. Plus, Bernie is counting on me to work the rest of the week. I’m leaving Saturday for the holiday anyway; I will be fine until then.”
As Sarah reassured her frantic mother, she walked towards the front window of her apartment and looked out onto the busy street. She wasn’t willing to admit it to herself, but she was checking for the Selachi. He had chased her through each of her dreams the night before, tainting every subconscious scene with fear and the overwhelming feeling of certain death.
It was early in the day, and the street was experiencing it’s mid-morning, pre-lunch hour quiet. The kind of quiet that usually made Sarah feel calm and warm, but today the lack of people—lack of witnesses—unsettled her. Watching the serene street and listening to her mother ramble on about ship times and writing notes to Bernie and her professors, Sarah fell into a sort of distracted trance. In her daydream, she was in the ship shop, alone, finishing up the day’s paperwork just before closing. The bell above the front door rang as someone entered.
Sarah leaned in her chair to see around her cluttered desk, and her breath caught as she realized what had entered the shop. It was a Kylen. His bright blue skin seemed almost to shine under the fluorescent track lighting. His horns were ivory in color and, extending straight from the sides of his forehead, they ended in a slight curl. He was looking at the box of old radio equipment. Sarah leaned further to catch a glance at the bottom half of his body, and with a yelp and a crash, she slipped out of her seat and onto the floor. The Kylen turned on her, teeth bared and alert. He started walking towards her with a hunger in his eyes. She crawled backwards awkwardly. With her back against the wall, and her heart thumping like the base-enhanced audio system of a Ground Rover 3KT, Sarah looked around for something with which to defend herself. She reached for the sharp, metal protractor on her desk, but the Kylen was quicker. He grabbed her arm and pinned her to the wall. He leaned in close, his breath smelled faintly of roasted meat which usually would have made Sarah, who was a vegetarian, gag, but she was too distracted by the gorgeous soft gray color of the Kylen’s eyes. Like the dark sky on Sarah’s favorite kind of rainy day, his eyes were heavy with things to come. Suddenly, Sarah was captivated with the intense desire to kiss him. She cautiously moved her face closer to his, lightly licked her bottom lip, and–
Captain’s Claimed Property Page 1
