Captain’s Claimed Property

by Hollie Hutchins

  “But you do have a choice. I mean, it’s not a great one, but if you refused to work for them, refused to do their bidding—”

  “They would kill me. And a lot of innocent lives would be lost because there wasn’t a doctor on board to intervene. I don’t see how anyone truly wins in that situation.”

  “I just don’t know how you can stand it.”

  The doctor put his finger to his mouth, indicating he needed her to be quiet while he listened to her heartbeat. When he was done, he undid the straps keeping her in bed and retrieved a small notepad from another pocket. “Well, everything sounds fine. The captain said I should give you a once over, run a couple tests to make sure you didn’t carry with you some nasty Reeveral Port disease.”

  Sarah rubbed her arms where the straps had been placed and only then realized her hands had been untied. “So,” she asked as Nickle reached for the door, “what now?”

  “Oh, well, I should have the test results back in a few hours and—”

  “No, I mean, what do I do now?”

  “Hmm,” Nickle turned around and rubbed the graying stubble on his chin, “let’s see here. You’re still technically a prisoner, but the boss announced this morning that you have free rein of the ship…something about you doing repairs? I’m not sure, I wasn’t really listening, I was too busy trying to get the damn caffie-drink maker running again.”

  Sarah’s expression changed at the mention of caffie-drink. “Does that mean I can go get myself something to eat?”

  Nickle frowned. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Can you point me in the direction of the kitchen?”

  “Better yet, I’ll take you myself. I’m already in need of my second cup of the black stuff.”

  Nickle opened the door and motioned for Sarah to go through.

  She hesitated. “Uh, well, you see…” Sarah looked down at her bare arms and midriff, her cheeks immediately reddening.

  “Ah, yes, of course.” The doctor began to blush as well. “I don’t have an extra shirt on me, but you can wear this.” He took remaining personal items out of his pocket, pulled off his lab coat, and handed it to her.

  The coat had no buttons, so Sarah had to take the belt from her jeans and use it to tie the coat closed. Unable to check how it looked in a mirror, Sarah just hoped it would stay closed. She had experienced enough unwanted attention for a lifetime yesterday, and she was not about to do anything that might “invite” more.

  Sarah thanked the doctor and followed him out into the dark, humid hallway.

  There was a soft knock at Grom’s door, followed by Jent announcing himself in an unusually quiet and timid tone.

  “Come in,” Grom called. He sat up straighter in his chair and motioned for Jent to take the seat across from his. Grom’s chambers were not actually the largest the ship had to offer, but they did have the largest windows, which were the reason Grom chose them. He didn’t tell this to his crew, however. It would not do well to have them know he possessed even the slightest ounce of sentimentality, none the less, for them to know after a long day pillaging and commanding, he loved nothing more than to sit and watch the stars. Instead, when asked why he would not take the largest quarters, Grom made up some excuse about it being too close to the kitchen, noting how he detested the smell of caffie-drink.

  “So,” Grom poured some water into two glasses as Jent took a seat, “you wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, er, um.” Jent cleared his throat awkwardly and reached for his glass. “Well, first, I wanted to apologize, again, for the whole…shuttle times mix up. I sent a message saying the flight plans were adjusted due to the upcoming holiday, but Reema said she didn’t receive it until you guys were past the shuttle’s designated flight path. Hence you having to turn around.”

  “I believe you tried everything you could.”

  “I did, sir, truly. And I promise, the backtracking will be worth it. When we sell these people, it will more than pay for our lost time.”

  “I hope you’re right. How are the prisoners?”

  “We managed to salvage two of the critically injured passengers. Since the ship was headed towards Earth, it seems the whole lot of them was human. The other three died.”

  “What does that give us total?”

  “Four, sir, well, five if you count your uh—” Jent stopped himself short and took a sip of his water.

  “Five total,” Grom affirmed.

  “Right, that’s actually the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. You see, the crew has been talking. We noticed that you let Sarah—"

  “Sarah?”

  “That’s the human’s name, sir. The ugly one that you took from Reema last night. I was looking through her wallet and saw her ID.”

  “Hmm. Sarah.” Grom let the name roll off his tongue like he was singing a song. “I’ve never heard a name like that before.”

  “It’s a very common human name. Anyway, like I was saying, the crew was talking about how you let her sleep in the extra chambers last night?”

  “That is correct.”

  “And your announcement this morning, about her being the new maintenance person—”

  “On a trial basis. I said she would be helping out on a trial basis. At least until we can get this decrepit ship in working condition again.”

  “Right, that part I understand—we understand. But what I—we’re confused about is, well, if you’re not going to have her, why are the rest of us not allowed to touch her? I mean, Nickle is a working slave, and we’re allowed to do whatever we want with him…not that anyone would ever want to, the guy’s ancient and wrinkly like a—”

  “Jent! Is there a point to all this?”

  “Yes. There is. My point is I want her. Not for keepsies, but just for a few goes. You see, me and the human have a history.”

  At the announcement that Jent and Sarah had some connection, Grom felt a hot jab of jealousy. “What kind of history?”

  “Nothing serious, let’s just say, we know each other.” Jent put emphasis on the word “know,” and therefore validated all of Grom’s most unsavory assumptions.

  “I see.” Grom took a sip from his water, buying time while he figured out what to say. Jent took this opportunity to further his case.

  “Unless you want her sir, because, if you’ve grown fond of her—”

  Grom choked on his water. “Grown fond? No, absolutely not. I couldn’t care less about that pathetic, brown creature.”

  “Perfect! Then there should be no issue.”

  “Well, that’s not entirely true. Not that I spent much time with her, but she doesn’t seem like the type of girl who would be…willing.”

  Jent narrowed his eyes in suspicious confusion. “Willing? Since when has that ever been an issue? You yourself have taken plenty of unwilling females.”

  “No, no, of course. It’s only, if you hurt her too much, she may not work as well. On the ship, I mean. She may stop fixing things out of spite. Or worse, she might purposefully damage the ship. No, it will not do. I’m sorry Jent, but for now she has proven to be quite useful and I do not want to jeopardize that. Understand?”

  Jent’s eyes flashed with anger, and Grom could see the side of his mouth curling as he tried to hold back his fury.

  “Sir, this is not how things are done—”

  “This is my ship, Jent.” Grom’s voice raised and he stood up, his immense size serving to emphasize his authority. “I decide how things are done. Now you’ve heard what I have to say. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to debark at the next dock.”

  “Sir, I mean no disrespect, but I can’t help but feel as if your judgement may be clouded—”

  “I could have left you behind,” The captain stated matter-of-factly. “That’s what the crew wanted me to do. Once we realized how far off course the shuttle was, the crew voted to leave you behind.” Jent stared at Grom in shocked silence. “You would have been stuck inside the shuttle’s storage compartment until the thing l
anded on Earth, upon which moment you would have been arrested if not executed immediately. Had it not been for me, you would likely be dead now. Was my judgment clouded then? When I made the decision to go back for you?”

  “No, I cannot express to you my gratitude—”

  “I don’t want your gratitude. I want your respect. In fact, I demand your respect. I went back for you because you’ve been nothing but loyal the ten years you’ve worked for me, but don’t you think for one second that our history together in any way impacts the power dynamics here. I am the captain, and you are my subordinate. If you ever dare to question my judgement again, I will do far worse than leave you behind. Got it?”

  The Selachi remained silent, but his eyes were relaying all of his unspoken rage and humiliation. With a curt nod and a quick bow, the captain’s servant took his leave.

  7

  Getting to Know the Crew

  The kitchen was small, grimy, and it stunk of some greasy non-distinct meat. Three crew members that Sarah didn’t recognize were seated around the long, metal table that took up most of the room. Reema was sitting at the far end, shoveling food into her mouth and smacking her lips in a way that validated all the rumors Sarah had heard about Haraldie table manners. The Haraldie looked up as Sarah and Nickle walked towards the caffie-drink machine and called to them with her mouth full, littering the table with bits of chewed breakfast.

  “Well, well, there she is.” Reema clasped a hand on the shoulder of the alien sitting in the chair next to her. “That’s the captain’s new pet.”

  The short, dirty alien grunted. “She doesn’t seem so special.”

  “Looks pretty ordinary, ugly even, if you ask me,” The hairy one across the table chimed in.

  “The captain isn’t interested in her looks.” Reema stood up and walked towards Sarah. “Word is he’s keeping this one for her brain.” The Haraldie reached her hand out and tapped Sarah on the forehead. “Apparently, she’s one smart cookie.”

  Nickle stepped in between the Reema and her prey. “Back off. You heard what that captain said. No one touches her.”

  Forgetting all about Sarah, Reema hungrily shifted her attention to Nickle, moving within inches of his face and pulling a small knife from her belt. “I know what the captain said. He said not to touch this slave, but he didn’t say not to touch our other slaves.” She pushed the knife lightly into the space between Nickle’s bottom two ribs. “So, please, tell me one more time what it is I’m not allowed to do.”

  Nickle cleared his throat, about to repeat himself, when Sarah interrupted. “Don’t hurt him. I need him. To do my work, uh, on the ship.”

  Reema looked past Nickle and fixed Sarah with a sharp stare. “You need a doctor to help you with technical ship maintenance?”

  Having entrapped herself in her own lie, Sarah thought about Margaret, the best liar she knew. “Once you’re in deep, why not dive even deeper?” her friend had once told her, in reference to an elaborate lie Sarah had cultivated to get out of a date. Although there wasn’t much logic to back up Margaret’s claim, her words were the only advice Sarah had at the moment, and she rolled with them.

  “The ship’s manual. It’s, uh, it’s in Latin.”

  “Lat-in?” Reema over enunciated the second syllable. “What the hell is Latin-”

  “It’s an ancient human language. No longer spoken, except by the first aliens who visited Earth. You see,” calling on what she learned in her middle-school Earth history class, Sarah’s lie took on a life of its own, “there was a group of aliens, you know them as Gearns, who landed on Earth around 100 BC. That’s ‘before Christ’, you know about Christ yes?” Sarah was rambling, in hopes that her inclusion of pointless tidbits would help distract Reema from the inconsistencies in her story. “Anywho, the aliens came down, and some humans taught them Latin. Their own language was incredibly basic and their method of written communication was virtually non-existent, so they adopted Latin as their secondary language.”

  “I don’t understand, what does this have to do with the ship’s manual?” Reema’s face remained stern, but Sarah caught a slight glimmer of confusion in the Haraldie’s eyes. “Slipsteams were designed by Chappicks, which, if I remember correctly, are not descendants of Gearns—”

  “No, you’re right,” Nickle spoke in a slightly shaky voice, “but since the Gearns are famous for their ship technology, a lot of companies use Latin in there manuals and designs as a sort of…homage.”

  “Yes, that’s right. It’s very trendy using Latin,” Sarah concluded. “And lucky for me, Nickle here knows Latin.”

  Nickle coughed and gave Sarah a look, then said, “Indeed. I-I studied Latin in med school.”

  “It helps doctors learn all the medical terms, you get it.” Sarah could tell Reema was still not fully convinced, so she decided to cement her lie by using the glue of truth. “Look, I need Nickle to help me do my job. The job that the captain assigned me. The job that he commanded no one get in the way of, so are you going to stop harassing us, or do I have to go tell Grom I can’t fix his ship because one of his easily replaceable crew members got a little too stab-happy?”

  With a sigh that screamed of rage, Reema brought her knife away from Nickle’s stomach and stepped back. “Fine.” She pushed Nickle aside and once again advanced on Sarah. “He lives another day. But I’d be careful abusing this small amount of leverage you’ve been handed. All it takes is one carefully planned accident, and you’ll be floating, breathless, amongst the stars, and I’ll be here, explaining to Grom how his stupid human girlfriend mixed up airlock controls and shot her scrawny ass right out of the ship.”

  Reema pushed past Sarah, and, calling for the other crew members to get back to work, she stormed out of the room.

  “Psst.” The whisper caressed Sarah’s ear as she finagled with the ship’s intercom system, attempting to fix the thing’s nasty habit of cutting in and out randomly. Turning around, she saw a single, bright blue eye surveying her through the cracked door of one of the chambers.

  “C’mere.”

  Nickle had gone to ask Wex if he had any extra tools, leaving Sarah alone in an area of the ship she was unfamiliar with. She wasn’t sure exactly whose room it was that the voice was coming from, but based on the eye, and the little bit of skin she could see around it, she was quite certain the voice came from a human.

  Cautiously stepping towards the door, Sarah whispered, “who are you?”

  “You have to help us.”

  “Us?” Sarah craned her neck to try to see past the man’s head. “Who is us?”

  “We’re the prisoners! Who do you think we are?” The man rolled his eye. “I sat across from you on the shuttle.”

  Sarah looked up and down the hallway, double checking there were no prying eyes or eavesdropping ears. “Are all the prisoners in there?”

  “I think so. Nobody has been taken yet, but one of those monsters could grab us any minute now and make us do god knows what. You have to get us out of here.”

  “And take you where? There’s nowhere to hide on this ship. Not forever, at least.”

  “We only have to hide until we land. One of the other prisoners overheard the Selachi saying something about arriving at the markets tomorrow.”

  “Even if I could hide you, they’d notice you were all missing long before we land. And then they’d wait to land until they’ve searched the ship. No, hiding is no good.”

  “So you’re just going to leave us here!” The man’s voice rose quickly, surprising Sarah.

  Putting one hand on the wall next to the door, she leaned in close, sporting her most critical of expressions. “I’m not going to leave you,” she explained in a serious, yet soft tone, “but I’m also not interested in going with the first half-baked plan we come up with. If we’re going to come out of this situation alive, it’s going to take a lot more than a game of spaceship hide and seek, got it?”

  The man nodded, a gesture Sarah was barely able to detect thro
ugh the very small opening in the door. “I said, do you got it?”

  “Yes, yes.” The man was thankfully whispering again.

  “So, if we’re not hiding, what do you suggest we do?”

  Sarah sighed. “I wish I knew this ship better. If I knew which chambers they kept their supplies in…”

  “What about that guy who’s with you. He’s part of the crew, right?”

  Sarah gave the man a look.

  “I’ve been, uh,” he was unable to keep eye contact with her, “I’ve been spying on you most of the afternoon. Sorry I didn’t speak up sooner. I wanted to wait until you were alone.”

  “I understand.”

  “So…what about him? Do you trust him? Can he help us?”

  Sarah pulled herself back into an upright position and folded her arms. “I’m not sure. I mean, I think he’s trustworthy, but whether or not he would help us get our hands on weapons—”

  “Wait, hold up, weapons?”

  “Yes. Weapons. I think it’s our best shot. If I could load you guys up, and you keep the blasters hidden until they bring you to the market tomorrow, you might be able to strike and run to freedom during the chaos.”

  “That’s…that’s your plan?” The man allowed the door to open a few inches wider, revealing his whole face to Sarah. There was a large, freshly sown scar stretching from his other eye down to his chin. “I doubt anyone in here has ever shot a blaster before. We’re far more likely to shoot ourselves than do any real damage to the enemy.”

  “You have a better idea?”

  The man frowned. A second voice called from behind him, a woman. “Franklyn, the watch is due back any minute. Shut the door before we get caught and executed on the spot.”

  “She’s right,” Sarah said. “Nickle will be heading back by now, too. Look, leave the plan up to me. I’ll come back tonight. I’ll knock lightly, three times, like this.” Sarah knocked on the wall twice, paused, then knocked a third time.