by Corin Cain
The noise came from ahead of me – where I spot two downcast, short men wearing long, brown robes. I press myself against the side of the hallway and make myself as small and flat as possible – clutching the knife hidden at my belt until they walk on by.
My eyes never leave the two men as they pass me. They’re dressed like monks…
…but you can never be too careful.
The two men pass by me without a glance – oblivious to my wild anxiety at their presence. The two of them look even more gaunt and hungry than I do – like they need physical sustenance as well as the spiritual kind.
Hopefully, they’ll get it when they arrive. I swallow down my fear. Those men are just two more lost souls – hoping for a better life on X12 just like I am.
I wait until they’re gone, and then keep walking down the hallway…
That’s when I hear it.
It’s a muffled sound that instantly triggers a flashback in my mind – the sound of helpless prey being caught in the jaws of a predator.
Only, this sound is specific – chillingly unforgettable. I described it accurately – but that sound evokes such a sharp reaction from me because I know it’s only human prey that sounds like that. What I heard was a noise that only emerges from human lips, at the moment when panic turns a rational brain into that of a frightened, feral creature.
My hand instantly drops to the knife at my belt. I yank it from its sheath, clutching the handle tightly as I continue to hear that faint, muffled noise emerging from inside the walls of this hallway.
My heart is racing. The knife is slick in my sweaty palm.
Nevertheless, I steel my nerves and press my ear to the wall.
Am I imagining things?
“Please! No!”
I’m not imagining it – I really do hear that voice.
I press my ears against the cold alloy of the wall, struggling to make out the words I hear on the other side of it. My heart races. I flatten my palms against the wall, running them up and down the long, flat hallway as I slide closer and closer towards the source of the sound. As I go, I press my fingertips against the metal, looking for a weak point or hidden doorway.
Nothing gives – until it does.
My fingers catch on an almost invisible crack in the sleek wall, and a panel bends inward under the pressure of them.
Cold sweat beads on my brow.
A hidden compartment? A secret deck?
Somewhere on the Elnor that passengers like me weren’t supposed to know about?
All I do know is that something horrible is happening on the other side of that wall, and if I don’t do something about it now, I’ll be as guilty as those perpetrating whatever atrocity it is.
I wish it didn’t have to be that way – I’d rather be facing anything but this – yet, I have no choice. Even if the ‘old me’ is dead, some of her instincts are still hard-wired into my tired, aching body – and I wince as I squeeze shut my eyes and try to find my courage.
It’s still missing, even as I kick the panel as hard as I can and force it open.
The loose panel swings open – and the force of my kick sends me stumbling forward into the dark chamber beyond.
This isn’t one of the modular dormitory cells, attached to the central spire of the Elnor and removed or reattached by space-crane at each destination. This dark section of the vessel is part of the deep innards of the craft; stretching off into the sub-structure.
My eyes adjust quickly to the darkness – and focus on a hulking man shoving a woman down onto the cold, metal deck - roughly wrenching her legs apart.
His big hands flail as he tries to shove them beneath her clothing, reaching for her groin. They only stop at the sound of my entrance – as I trip forward through the broken panel, stumbling and barely catching my balance.
The man’s head turns.
Fear grips me.
I’ve never seen this man before, but I’ve seen the face of a rapist often enough to recognize the stranger as one. He’s got thick stubble over his fleshy jaw, beneath two beady eyes that are almost completely hidden beneath the folds of his pale flesh. A thick brow and a twice-broken nose complete his thuggish, simian look.
I freeze.
Panic overwhelms my hatred.
Suddenly, I can’t move.
It’s like being in a dream – one in which your limbs are paralyzed. I stand there, and I just can’t move…
As if sensing my weakness, the would-be rapist stares at me – predator to prey.
His lips curl upward in snarl – and suddenly, he abandons the woman he’d been assaulting and dashes forward toward me, instead.
I’m shocked at how fast the big man moves – clawing out at me with his grimy hands and leaving his first victim still lying on the deck.
He’s on me in a heartbeat – the man’s big body slamming into mine and shoving me hard against the wall. The breath is knocked from my lungs, and my hands twist beneath his weight.
His hands grab at my wrists – sinking into my skin with agonizing pressure. The sudden stink of the man’s breath fills my nostrils. He smells like hot, rotten meat as his tongue smears a glistening path across my cheek.
Then, just as suddenly, his breath catches.
The man gasps – his beady, black eyes suddenly widening in surprise even as they hover just an inch from my terrified face.
His grunt of lust turns to a gasp of pain – and then, the big man pushes himself off me.
He lurches backwards, stumbling off into the shadows. I crumple to the deck as he leaves – the rapist’s weight pressing me against the wall had been the only thing still keeping me upright.
The rapist is gone now, and with disgust I wipe his slimy saliva from my cheek. My hand trembles as I look at it – glistening against my skin.
Across from me, the woman who’d originally been assaulted struggles to clamber up.
I look at her, instantly logging the important details, just as I did back when I travelled with Ling. Even the tiniest detail can be important when you’re fighting for your life, or the lives of helpless victims of slavers and scum. Those days might be behind me now, but I don’t think I’ll ever lose the habit of constant vigilance.
I quickly ascertain that this woman is roughly my age – or maybe just a few years younger. I place her in her early-twenties, with light brown eyes that are still wide and panicked from being attacked just moments earlier.
The woman glances left and right, terrified and searching for her attacker. Her whole body seemed to uncoil when she realizes he’s gone.
Then, the woman’s eyes turn to me. They drop toward my wrist – the one I hadn’t even noticed I’d been clutching painfully. It had been twisted and hurt when that foul man had pressed himself against me.
I glance down.
Hot, red blood is dripping from the blade of my knife.
My adrenaline stopped me from feeling the wound. Did it hit an artery? Am I going to bleed out in the darkness?
For a second, I’m horrified to think it’s my own…
…then, I remember the gasp of pain, and the way that huge man had staggered away into the darkness. By luck alone, he’d been the one who’d landed on my blade; with the steel penetrating his soft flesh just like he’d intended to penetrate me.
It was blind luck – I can’t take credit. If that man hadn’t skewered himself on my blade, I know I’d have been too frozen with terror to resist him.
The scenario plays out in my head like an old horror movie on holo-vid. That beady-eyed brute would have taken us both captive – me and the woman I’d caught him assaulting.
If he knew about this section of the Elnor, he’d probably know about other empty parts of this enormous transport ship. Big hands curled around our wrists, he’d planned on dragging us both into the darkness – raping us in the bowels of this vessel, just a few meters away from the supposed safety of our ‘affordable, luxurious space-accommodation.’
Then what? Ten-thousa
nd souls traveled on the Elnor, but we still had security and the rule of law. The only way to escape the consequences of his crime would have been for that man to follow his rape with murder. The only mystery would be where he’d stow our bodies. Would he be able to sneak them onto the garbage incinerator? Out of an airlock?
Or would the innards of this ancient transport ship have been my final resting place? Would my body be discovered months from now – years from now – wizened and frozen from exposure to the sterile, recycled air?
That’s a question that thankfully doesn’t need to be answered now.
My heart is still pounding. Part of me is astonished I’d got involved in this at all. I could have ignored that muffled gasp when I first heard it – I’d long since decided I was no longer looking for such trouble…
But the problem is, such trouble still reaches out to me, and I’m hardwired not to ignore it.
Still trembling, I glance back and forth. This section of Elnor is gloomy and shadow-filled, and I’ve learned to dread the shadows. In them lurks danger – the same kind of danger that I’d once actively sought out.
Danger like the man who’d assaulted us.
The woman I’d rescued approaches. I sense no danger from her – even as she reaches out to help me. The knife falls from my shaking hand as the young woman pulls me back to my unsteady feet.
My heart is still pounding. I’m ashamed at how heightened my reactions had been.
There was a time that I’d have rushed that man the moment I’d seen him. When I’d stumbled into this dark chamber, and found him pawing and clawing at this helpless woman, I’d have crossed the space between us and stabbed the rapist bastard without a thought; plunging my knife into the back of his neck before he’d even realized I was there.
But those times were over.
This time, when it had counted – I’d frozen.
Luck alone saved this woman, and me. Luck, and a very sharp knife.
The stranger bends down and picks up the knife, wiping the blood from the blade onto the cold, alloy walls.
Barely any cleaner, the woman hands me my weapon – hilt first.
“Here. You might need this sooner than you think.”
I accept the blade, and conceal it back on my belt.
My eyes meet hers. I see nothing to be afraid of in their light brown depths.
“Fuck,” the woman gasps, offering me her slender hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
I nod, and together we help each other out of the dark chamber. In seconds, we’ve escaped the bowels of Elnor and we’re back into the hallway of the dormitory second.
Back in the bright lights of civilization – or as close as you can get to it this deep out in space.
Instincts take over, and just as I would have done on a mission with Ling, I try to cover our tracks. I pull the panel I’d kicked in back into place – but it’s left hanging there, lopsided.
I bent it with the heel of my foot, and now that panel is the only thing that separates the bright, civilized world of the dormitory section from the primal darkness of Elnor’s engine and sub-system decks.
Now we’re back somewhere safe – or, at least, in the perception of safety – I turn to the woman.
“What happened?”
I have to force the words out of my mouth. My heart still hasn’t stopped pounding. It’s like it wants to rip itself right out of my chest.
The woman looks at me uncertainly, and swallows.
“Can we go somewhere more public first?”
More public?
I glance up and down the empty hallway. This might have been where that man attacked her. I remember how nervous that two monks had made me feel.
“Okay.”
We walk down the hallway together, both of us scanning behind and ahead with nervous eyes.
I’ve always been nervous – at least since that final mission with Ling. This is different, though. I’d felt reasonably secure in this hallway before – but now I’m glancing left and right like a hunted deer, and the woman I’d rescued it doing the same.
She’s limping, too. That guy who’d snatched her had been rough. Who knows what would have happened to her if I hadn’t stumbled through the panel right when I did?
I don’t want to – those days are long behind me – but I find myself taking the lead. I bring us to the bar at the end of the hallway – the one with the viewing deck I like so much. This is where I come late at night, when I can’t sleep.
Now, I wonder if I’ll ever sleep again – at least for the next two weeks.
I’d walked that same stretch of hallway dozens of times during this interminable voyage. Each time, the man who’d attacked my newfound friend could have been a few feet away from me. It was only by the grace of the Gods that it hadn’t been me.
How many other women had he victimized? We’re light years from the nearest Aurelian Law Enforcement station or Human Alliance division. He could have spent the entire month-long journey picking off victims; and nobody would even realize it until we got to X12 and the passenger list turned out to be a few names shorter than it had been when we’d left.
Was he the only one, too? Are there other men lurking in the shadows of this ship? Flitting between the walls of Elnor, and grabbing any women who look like easy targets?
I shiver.
Had any of them watched me as I’d walked past? Peering at me through those nearly-invisible cracks in the walls? Deciding my fate – each day choosing whether or not to make me a victim?
I’m thrilled when we finally reach the bar. I press the button to open the doors, and as they slide open my claustrophobia momentarily lightens.
It’s not that the bar was especially impressive – except when contrasted to the cramped, empty hallway. It’s just a worn bar, surrounded by threadbare seats, and along the entire far wall is a huge pane of thick viewing glass – so dirty and smudged that you don’t know if you’re staring out at far away planets or stars…
…or just specks of dirt on the glass, only a few feet away from you.
The doors slide shut behind us. The bored bartender barely looks up – and then instantly turns his eyes back down as soon as he recognizes me.
I’ve been here a dozen times and never once ordered a drink from him. He looks frustrated that he can’t stick a sign on the door that reads: “Views of space are for paying customers only.”
The view would easily be worth the cost of a drink – if I could afford one.
Beyond the dirty glass, endless space stretches out ahead of us. It’s breathtaking.
I lead my newfound friend towards the window, and take a seat at one of the grungy tables. I choose the same one I always do, which allows me to sit with my back to the wall. I remember Ling teaching me to always have the exits and entrances of a room covered; and that’s an instinct that’s become deeply ingrained in my day-to-day programming.
If I have to rush out of this room in a life or death situation, I’m going to be one of the ones that makes it out alive.
My eyes turn to the window. How could they not? This might be the cheapest, most dangerous space-flight I could afford to X12, but the view is worthy of a million credits.
When I gaze out across those countless twinkling stars, each flickering in that endless darkness, I actually feel sorry for the wealthy folks who are stuck in cryo-sleep for the entirety of this journey. Whatever beauty awaits them on X12, they missed out on a view that’s quite literally out-of-this-world.
Space. Endless, empty space.
Countless stars, bursting into brilliance or burning into nothingness a million light years away. Even the twinkling lights I’m staring at right now are merely snapshots of the past. It takes thousands or millions of years for the light from those stars to reach observers like me; and who knows how many of them have died and blacked out of existence during the time it took their light to cross the universe.
How many of those stars are real? How many are just reflections o
f a long-gone past?
I stare at the endless stars, and suddenly begin to imagine them snapping into darkness one by one – as if flicked off by a light switch.
I shiver, imagining the endless emptiness that would be left when all of them are extinguished.
Then, tearing my eyes from the haunting, celestial view, I look across the table toward this woman I’ve just met.
Again, Ling’s training makes me analyze every detail I can glean from her body language, outfit and expression.
She’s had a hard life – that much I can read in her eyes. Yet, the young woman still sits with a straight, proud back – as if she’d been trained in proper etiquette from a young age.
There are thin lines on her face – not wrinkles from age, but lines drawn from years of constant anxiety. I know how that feels – the squirming edge, and bitter bite of never being able to relax. The young woman’s gaze constantly flickers around the room – just like mine does in every public space I enter.
What’s perhaps most telling is that we’ve both just been attacked – but instead of going to the shop’s infirmary, or reporting it to the security station, she and I went to a bar.
Can you blame us?
The woman is bruised and frightened. My wrist still aches. However, the infirmary would have just patched up our injuries and demanded credits for doing so.
The security station wouldn’t have even gone that far. The small security detachment on Elnor isn’t here for our benefit. None of them give a shit about the “bottom-feeders” in the dormitory units – which is what they call us, the lowest class of passengers on a transport vessel like this. They pander to the richest and most influential passengers. In truth, they’re mostly here to protect high class passengers from bottom feeders.
To them, the rest of us are merely cattle.
So, the bar it is. The view is better than the infirmary or security station, anyway.
I rub my aching wrist. There’s nothing broken, but it still hurts like a bitch.
The young woman shifts in her seat.
“Hi.” Her eyes are hesitant to meet mine. “I’m Tessa,” she introduces herself – and then shudders. “Gods, if you hadn’t come at that exact moment…”
