Sold to the Alien Pirate

by Maia Tanith

  “No kidding,” he replies. “I didn’t think it was possible something of your size to inhale its weight in food in approximately seven seconds. Although on the planet of Cer there is a mammal that can stretch its stomach to be able to contain ten times its own body weight.” He sips a mouthful of soup from his spoon and considers me. “Although once it’s done that, it can’t move for a full turn while it digests, and it becomes easy for trappers to capture it. It’s a rare delicacy, or so I’ve heard. I hope you don’t need to sit here for a week while you digest your own meal.”

  Is he making fun of me?

  I don’t even care right now. I feel the best I’ve felt since I woke up in that horrible spaceship.

  I cover my mouth as I let out a small burp. “Not a week, but I could easily sleep for a whole day now.”

  “With any luck, we’ll get a spot on a ship leaving soon and you’ll be able to sleep to your heart’s content until I can drop you home.”

  I nod. Now that the food has hit my stomach and my most pressing need has been met, I can’t help thinking of what’s to come.

  He speaks so casually about taking me back to Earth, like I’m a hitchhiker for whom he needs to make a small detour. I don’t want to think about it. I’m tired, and even thinking about a way to get home seems impossible right now.

  Behind me, the card game seems to have heated up. I can hear an argument as two players vehemently discuss the order of a set of cards. “You mongrel. That’s a clearly marked deck. That card shouldn’t have been played,” one player screeches at the other.

  “Nonsense, old friend. You think I’d try something like that on an old pal? I’m wounded.” This voice is calmer, and cooler. I know without turning around that it’s the voice of the yellow eyed man, the one who scares me.

  “I ain’t see none of my pals here,” comes the reply. “I see a weevil of a pilot who’s trying to fleece me.”

  “If I was trying to fleece you, my dear friend, you’d have nothing left long ago. I’m merely playing for a few extra coins to enjoy my last night at this port with a nice drink.”

  “Bah, to enjoy the arms of the dirty whores here, more like.”

  Another voice cuts in, cajoling them. “Back to the game, eh?”

  Someone else growls. The grumbles recede into the background.

  I come to with Azr waving his hand in front of my face. “Hello? You still in there?”

  I blink and shake my head. “Were you talking to me?”

  He grins. “I was. Did any of it make it to your ears?”

  I shake my head and blush. “Sorry, I was-”

  “Eavesdropping,” he says, in a lower voice. “I am well aware of that. I’ve got to say, you’ve got a long way to go if you want to be more subtle about it. Eavesdropping is an art form, and you are still scribbling with colored chalk.”

  “I wasn’t meaning to.” I want to defend myself. I wasn’t eavesdropping in the way he thinks. I’m not a crook. I’m not trying to learn some secret that I can use against someone. “I was just listening.”

  He shrugs. “I won’t argue. Now, may I request you listen to me for a moment of your precious time? I have a plan.”

  That got my full attention.

  “Now that I have purchased you and you are in the eyes of the law, my property-”

  I fix him with a steely glare.

  He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Only kidding. Well, partly kidding.”

  I glare harder.

  He grins. “Something to discuss with you another time. At the moment we are here with few credits, and no way to get you to where you want to go or me to where I want to go.”

  I nod. I know he stole the money for my dinner, but I was too hungry to care. And after my second run-in with those nasty hyena men, I want to leave this planet as soon as I can. I want to get back to Earth enough to consider stealing a spaceship. My morals have a limit and it seems I’ve reached that limit. It’s a sobering thought.

  “So—first things first, we need some money. Only a little bit. Just enough so that we can purchase passage on a ship for us both.”

  My face lights up with eagerness. “To Earth? You really will take me home again?”

  He waves his hand dismissively. “Yes, eventually. But first, I need to make a pit stop.” He lowers his voice and leans in closer. “I have a stash I’d like to retrieve. It’s something very important to me. And it’s worth is priceless.”

  My eyes widen despite themselves. “Treasure? You have a hidden stash of treasure?” This doesn’t come as much of a surprise to me. He’s a pirate. Of course he would have a hidden stash. “Ill-gotten treasure, I assume?”

  He leans in even closer and drops his voice low. “No, not all of it. Some of it was given to me. I had a wealthy uncle who left me something precious when he died. Well, uncle is a loose term. He advised me when I was a young and naive new entrepreneur looking to make my way in the world. Anyway, I’ve saved it. Kept it hidden for a long time. I’ve successfully suppressed my desire to use it. However, we’re in a bit of a tight corner now. As much as it pains me to have to use it, I think it’s time. It will be enough to get us a ship to get home. Perhaps more. I was hoping to use it to finance an early retirement, but needs must.”

  I breathed in. I will feel a lot better carrying on with his plan knowing that we will be using money he was given as an inheritance.

  “Why are we whispering about it?” I asked. “Surely if you asked someone to take you to it, you could offer to pay them back once we got there.”

  “I don’t trust anyone,” he replied mildly. His voice is still quiet. I’m painfully aware of the voices behind me, the gamblers. I don’t want them to hear him talking. They don’t look trustworthy. As much as Azr’s questionable morals worry me, I don’t want to see him taken advantage of.

  “Also, if I let someone know I was on my way to treasure, they’d likely try to force the coordinates from me and then throw me off the ship to claim it for themselves.”

  “Why would anyone do such a thing? Especially if you offer to pay them? You know, not everyone has a chip on their shoulder about the world.” I sit up straight, suddenly finding myself passionate about my words. “You could find that if you’re friendly, and open up to someone, they might surprise you. Being vulnerable can be a strength.”

  “You don’t say,” he replies coolly, as if I have offended him.

  He leans back and stares at me, pausing for a moment. Then he leans in and whispers, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this because you’re going to be nagging me across space and back. But I won’t trust any pilots here, because they can’t trust me. As soon as we get a ride on a ship, I’m going to get rid of the pilot first. Throw him off the ship before he can throw us both off. Then we go get my treasure. Then I’ll get you back to Earth.”

  I groan and cover my face with my hands. That was not where I thought he was going with this plan. “Do you have to try and screw over everyone you meet?”

  “It’s a rough world, little one. You shoot or be shot. And I might point out that I haven’t tried to screw you over.”

  I flush. He has a point.

  “So.” He takes another dainty sip of soup with his spoon and pats his chin delicately with his napkin. His eyes leave my face and his voice raises. He is addressing the scary group behind me. “If you are satiated, I may join this group of upstanding gentlemen behind you and see if I can win us a few meagre coins.”

  Ugh. I’m not mentally prepared for any of this.

  I hear a grunt from behind me. “We’re playing with credits. Two credits and you’re in,” one of the voices says.

  Azr shrugs. “I’m afraid I only have one left. We’re a bit short today. No worries, gentlemen, I’ll find another game.”

  He stands and starts to turn when the voice of the yellow eyed man breaks through the silence. “He can play.”

  I turn around with dread. I’m not going to sit by myself in this room, but if I move with Az
r to that table I’ll be even closer to the scariest group of aliens in this place.

  Azr doesn’t notice my discomfort. Or if he does, he doesn’t show it. “Excellent.” He rubs his hands together. I see the claws on his hands are out slightly. Not fully extended, but the glimpse of the claws alone is a warning to those at the table that he isn’t here to be taken advantage of.

  The group make room at the table.

  One of the scruffier of the bunch eyes me. “Is this—little earthling joining us too?”

  “She’s my good luck charm.” Azr flashes a smile. “She won’t be playing.”

  I should be annoyed. I’m a strong, independent (at least on Earth I am), woman. If this was at home, I’d fight for my own place at the table. Here I meekly pull up a seat slightly behind Azr’s shoulder. And stay quiet. The less attention that is focused on me, the better I feel.

  Azr’s credit is placed in the middle of the table and the game starts. I can’t follow it at all. The images on the cards are different to the packs I’m used to. And they play so quickly. Claws flash here and there as some of them are angered.

  I keep watching. Perhaps the claws flash also to pretend to show anger, when really, they have a good hand. I notice the yellow eyed man doing that. It’s a game of pretend, as much as it is a game of skill.

  And Azr is good at both. He comes close to winning a round, then wins the next one. He wins credits, then loses them, then wins more.

  There’s little conversation as they play. The argument I heard earlier seems to have been forgotten. Drinks are delivered to the table by the silent bartender and gulped down, credits are moved from one side of the table to the other by ever more unsteady fingers.

  I scratch an itch on my back and squirm on my stool. I cross and uncross my legs to keep the pins and needles at bay as my limbs fall asleep.

  Around us in the bar a group leaves, another one enters.

  A single alien of a type I’ve not yet seen before wanders it. It is short, its skin is an iridescent purple, and it has tentacles coming out of its face. It sits in a far corner and huddles in on itself, wearing a shabby sort of coat with a hood that it pulls up high. I can sympathize with it. It’s not easy, being the odd one out in a strange land.

  On the table, the latest game looks to be wrapping up. One male throws his cards down in disgust and picks up his meagre pile of coins, shooting daggers at Azr with his eyes. Two more leave with slightly friendlier looks. Only Azr, I, and the yellow-eyed claw man remain. They are the only two with liquid left in their mugs.

  “What’s your story then, friend?” the yellow-eyed man asks.

  Azr takes a gulp of his drink. “Looking for passage right now. Me and my pet—” he gestures at me and I bristle “—are on a quest to return her to Earth. I’m seeking to purchase passage to the Qe’xi port. I have an item from there I’d like to retrieve. Would you by chance know of a ship heading that way? Or a pilot seeking a paying fare?”

  “It might be your lucky day. I’m a pilot. I depart tomorrow. Not for Qe’xi, but I can take you there for a price. It’s not far from where I was heading anyway.”

  Azr claps him on the back. “What are the chances of that? Friend, it would be my pleasure to take you up on that offer. What’s the fare?”

  The yellow eyed male grins and looks at the pile of coins Azr has won. “I won’t stiff you out of your full winnings. A small price of ten credits for you and throw in an extra two for the human.”

  “Ten total, and I’ll pay you now,” Azr counters.

  The man nods and claps Azr on the back. “Done.”

  They raise their cups and drink, both smiling widely.

  For all intents and purposes, the two of them look like longtime buddies out for a drink. Not strangers who met gambling a few short hours ago.

  Azr is relaxed, looking pleased that he’s found us a ride so quickly. I can’t shake the unease I feel. A worrying thought nags at the back of my mind, and prickles down my back.

  What are the chances indeed that the first pilot we find is heading right for the planet where Azr has his treasure hidden?

  Azr

  Delia doesn’t look pleased as we follow our pilot and my newfound friend through the city towards the spaceport.

  Perhaps it’s because she is still tired and dirty. Perhaps she is thinking about the last time she arrived at this port—kidnapped from her home.

  Dezar—he told me his name before we left the bar—leads us to a small ship in the far edge of the port. It’s perhaps a third smaller than my own small ship had been. The ship I’d owned before I’d run into Lila and fallen into her web of deceit.

  Its silver facade is worn to a dull sheen, and there are at least two patches of rust along the screws holding the all-important airlock door.

  Inside it’s not much better. Exposed wires hang haphazardly from the ceiling. A wall panel has been pulled out, presumably to do maintenance on the electrical controls behind it, and not replaced, leaving a mess of dusty cords and switches on display. The ship’s cockpit is messier than mine ever was, littered with empty food packets, a dirty pipe with the remains of ciabaans in it, and an underlying musty smell that reminds me of a wild animal’s den.

  Our new pilot friend evidently is a trader. Or a merchant. There is a storage hold full of boxes of batteries. He tells us they were going to be sold to a ship manufacturer, but when he arrived to deliver it, they’d found an alternate fuel source to use.

  Evidently he’s been hitting hard times, perhaps even before this latest disappointment of a deal. It shows in his ship.

  And it’s perfect. I couldn’t have planned better if I’d tried.

  “Welcome aboard,” Dezar says.

  Delia wrinkles her nose slightly but stays quiet. She’s like a skittery goss, all twitches and starts, and I can smell her nervousness.

  “She’s a good ship you have here,” I say jovially. “The YT67 Zenhurt model. I’ve seen a few of these. My old ship was a model down from this. They say the electronics never managed to get better in the later models.”

  Delia’s eyes turn to the ceiling where a wire is dangling free, barely grazing our heads. I stifle my grin. She’ll understand soon enough.

  “She might not look like much, but she runs like a dream. Never had mechanical issues with her. She’s clocked a million light jumps and she ticks over like she’s new,” Dezar says with pride. “Course, one day I’ll trade her in for something bigger. Would be good to carry the heavy stuff. Fuel, those new batteries that weigh a ton.” He slaps the metal wall. “Still, she’s been good. My old girl. No plan to part with her any time soon.”

  Delia shoots him a look. I wonder what she’s thinking. Sometimes she’s as naive as a newborn, and other times she surprises me.

  I wonder if she can see in the pilot what I see. A desperate man. Who perhaps might have morals as loose as my own.

  Dezar shows us to our cabin. If you could call it a cabin. It’s a sort of supply cupboard that’s been emptied of most of its supplies, and has a thin single mattress thrown onto the floor.

  “I’ll take off first thing,” he says, oblivious to the expression on Delia’s face as she takes in the room and realizes we are meant to share. A mixture of disgust and worry. It would be insulting if it was any other woman.

  “I don’t bite,” I whisper into her ear.

  She jumps, and a flush spreads across her cheeks. Her cheeks look better with a bit of color in them.

  “You’re going to need a shower before I share that bed with you,” she mutters.

  Now I can laugh. She is getting feistier the longer I spend with her. I like it.

  Dezar points down one of the narrow corridors. “Washroom’s down there. Use as much water as you want while we’re here. Once we leave, we’ve only got limited water. Small tanks on here.”

  He looks at Delia pointedly. “You look like you need it, too.” He chuckles at his own joke. “We’ll all be staying on board tonight. Have a wash, set
tle in.”

  Ah, the thought of cleaning the warg blood off me is a good one. “We need to wash our clothes as well. Have you got any we can borrow while ours are cleaned?”

  “For another two credits I’ll give you some real ones.”

  I shuffle my feet. “What can do you for one? It’s my last credit.”

  He reaches out and I hand it to him without hesitation. “One will do,” he says gruffly.

  I can see Delia wants to smile but she is holding it back. She nods stiffly. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do.” He gives a self-indulgent smile.

  There is ice in the pit of my stomach. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s really thinking, what he’s really planning.

  He leaves us in our tiny cabin and returns not long later with a pair of pants and a top for me, along with crudely made sandals. The same for Delia.

  I turn around while she dresses. The pants are too long on her, and she has to roll them like a child. Still, a light year better than the sack she’d been given after the Games. The top is sleeveless, leaving her pale arms free. Her skin is paler than any of my kind. There is a scattering of small brown dots up them, the color of which almost matches her mane of red curls. I wonder what it feels like to touch her skin, her hair. I shake the thought away. “You can wash first.”

  I sit on the bed and unsheathe my claws while she scurries down the hall. I sharpen each claw slowly, taking pride in the sharpness of the edges. I might need them soon.

  I’m lost in thought when Delia appears at the edge of the room. She is clutching the dirty dress she’d worn close to her chest. “I could wash this and re-wear it. But I hate it. It reminds me of the games. Of those nasty dog things.”

  I look at her. She looks considerably better clean. Her long hair falls down her back in dark red ringlets and her cheeks are pink from the hot water. Even her toes are pink and shining.

  “Don’t keep it then.”

  She looks down at the dirty bundle. “I don’t like to throw things away. It feels wasteful.”