by Joe Vasicek
Had her captors abused her? Raped her? Probably not—she imagined she would hurt a lot worse if they had. Then again, she’d never had sex before—she didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like normally, let alone when it was forced.
She shivered and hugged her knees a little tighter. What were they going to do to her her? Her stomach felt light and fluttery, and her breathing came short and quick. A nauseous feeling rose in her stomach, and she started to panic.
Stop it, she told herself. Stay calm. You’re still alive. You can make it through this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
A door hissed open behind her; it must have been a freight door, because it flooded the room with light. She squinted and covered her eyes. From behind, she heard heavy footsteps. She squeezed her knees a little closer to her chest.
Gloved hands seized her roughly by the arms and lifted her off the floor. She shrieked and tried to cover herself, but her captors’ grip on her arms was too firm. Is this it? she wondered. Are they going to rape me? A jolt of fear shot through her body.
She stumbled and tripped as they half-dragged, half-marched her into the blinding light.
* * * * *
Ben woke with a terrible pain in his side and the disconcerting realization that he was naked. When he opened his eyes and glanced around the dimly lit cargo hold, he got a much worse shock—Stella was no longer with him. He sat up at once.
“Stella?” he yelled, his voice reverberating off of the cold metal walls of the unusually large hold. Several people glanced up in his direction, but Stella wasn’t among them.
He took a deep breath and tried to fight his growing panic. He’d heard stories of the things the Hameji did to their prisoners. Most were just speculation—no one had ever escaped from the Hameji—but at Tajjur, a passing Imperial frigate had discovered hundreds of bodies floating in deep space. When the bodies were identified, it was discovered that no more than two or three had been on the same ship at the time of their capture.
That did not bode well for him and Stella.
He rose clumsily to his feet and scanned the room, ignoring the pain in his side as best he could. The room held maybe fifty to a hundred other prisoners, all naked like himself. The Hameji hadn’t bothered separating the men from the women, but that was good, because if Stella was on the ship, there was a good chance he’d find her. And if not? Ben tried not to think about that.
He stepped carefully around the other prisoners as he searched, averting his eyes where possible, ignoring what he saw when he couldn’t. Several of them were bleeding, and some lay in their own vomit. The smell of human excrement was thick in the air. He covered his nose and breathed through his mouth.
“Stella?” he called out again. “Stella, are you here?”
“Who are you looking for?” a black-haired woman asked, sitting against the wall with her knees tucked tightly against her chest. The light was dim, but she appeared to be in her mid-thirties. From her accent, Ben guessed she was from one of the Lagrange settlements at Kardunash VII.
“I’m looking for my sister,” said Ben. “She’s about half a head shorter than me with brown hair down to her shoulders.” As he talked, he discretely covered himself with his hands and averted his eyes so as not to stare directly at her. She showed him the same courtesy.
“Which ship were you on?” she asked.
“We were on a ferry shuttle at Kardunash IV when the attack happened. A passing freighter took us in—the Sierra Vista, I think.” As if it mattered. “Then the Hameji boarded us. That’s all I remember.”
“I was on a small freighter—the Winter Aegis.” A tremor in her voice made him glance at her face. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes wide—both signs of shock.
“What’s your name?” Ben asked, leaning against the wall.
“Ava,” she said, turning to face him. “Yours?”
“Ben.”
She nodded. “I’m looking for someone too. My husband. Have you seen him?”
“What does he look like?”
“He’s tall, short black hair, in his early thirties—though I guess you can’t tell in this light.”
“No,” said Ben. “I haven’t seen anyone like that—not that it means anything.”
“I guess we’re on the same starship then—literally and figuratively.” She laughed at her own joke, but tears soon streaked her pale, frightened face. Ben felt an urge to reach out and comfort her, but hesitated, worried that it would be too unseemly of him.
They both fell silent. Ava rose to her feet, keeping her arms close to her chest and her legs pressed tightly together. Ben looked the other way.
“The nudity is psychological,” he told her. “They’re trying to make us feel weak and powerless by stripping us down like this.” And doing a hell of a good job at it, too.
Ava glanced at him and smiled weakly. “Well, if that’s all it is…” her voice trailed off as she glanced around the room. “I hope they haven’t hurt him.”
Ben’s cheeks burned with sudden anger. Even if Stella wasn’t on this ship, he could imagine her in a stinking cargo hold much like this one, naked, alone, and scared out of her mind. If they’ve done anything to hurt her—
A loud clang sounded from somewhere beyond the walls, reverberating through the floor. Bright light shone through a rapidly opening freight door to his left, stabbing his eyes. He squinted and peered into the light, catching sight of several figures marching into the room. Their footsteps sounded heavy against the hard metal floor.
Soldiers.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw them haul the prisoners off one by one, starting on the far side of the room. Awake or only half-conscious, it didn’t matter—they took everyone without exception.
“Oh no,” Ava said, leaning into him so that their bodies made contact. “Where are they taking us?”
“I don’t know,” said Ben. “I’ve heard, though—”
“What have you heard?”
He swallowed, remembering the frozen bodies at Tajjur. “I’ve heard this is where they separate us.”
“Why? What for? What are they going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Ben lied. He fought back his growing nausea.
All too soon, the soldiers reached them.
* * * * *
Stella stumbled through the freight airlock and into a spacious, well-lit room that reeked of body odor and cheap chemical cleansers. The soldiers forced her into a roughly formed row of prisoners, facing the opposite wall. As soon as they let go of her, she wrapped her arms around her chest and looked around.
She stood near the center of a giant hangar. The drab, yellowed walls were flat and windowless, the hardened ceramic floor grainy under her bare feet. The opposite wall was actually an enormous bay door, large enough to swallow the Llewellyn. An unloading claw dangled from the ceiling like a monstrous hand waiting to pluck her off her feet.
So I’m on some kind of deep-space freighter, she thought to herself. Judging from the design, it had to be Belarian. She’d spent a lot of time around Belarian ships in her apprenticeship, and knew the typical layout fairly well.
That was encouraging—it might help her escape.
About a hundred other prisoners stood around her, all naked, all facing the same way. Hameji soldiers in full armor patrolled the rows, their rifles held at the ready. Even with so many prisoners, however, the hangar bay was far from full. She stood behind a flabby, middle-aged woman who kept glancing nervously over her shoulder. The others around her stared at the ground or straight ahead.
Ben, Stella thought to herself. Where is Ben? She wanted to shout out his name, but she didn’t dare. Except for the heavy, booted footsteps of the soldiers and a few muffled sobs and whimpers, the room was deathly quiet.
With her arms wrapped tightly around her chest and her knees pressed firmly together, she glanced from face to face, searching for Ben. Heads started turning her way, making her feel horribly self-conscious of her nakednes
s, but she did her best to ignore it. Whatever happened, she had to find her brother.
In the row ahead of her, two places to the left, a little girl sobbed in fear, her pale face streaked with tears. Urine trickled down her legs and formed a puddle around her feet. Poor girl, Stella thought to herself. She probably feels all alone and embarrassed because she peed her—oh no!
A pair of Hameji soldiers dragged the old woman Stella had seen in the cargo bay to the front of the room. Her body was stiff and unmoving, eyes closed and mouth open. The soldiers dropped her in the corner; her head made a horrible thudding noise against the hardened floor.
Oh my God, Stella thought to herself. She’s dead. Her knees begin to shake, and she fought the urge to throw up.
Off to her left, a door hissed open, and a short, silver-haired man stepped through. He was swarthy and olive-skinned, with a sharp goatee and short, trimmed hair. Unlike the soldiers, he wore a loose fitting robe under a lightly decorated gray jerkin that extended down to his knees. He carried a gun at his side, and something long and curved next to it in a gold-embroidered holster. It took Stella a while to realize that the holster was actually a scabbard for a sword.
The soldiers at the door snapped to attention when they saw him. He nodded curtly to them as he passed, followed by half a dozen younger men, all similarly dressed. From the authoritative way he carried himself, Stella guessed he was an officer—perhaps even a captain.
After briefly inspecting his troops, the captain started at the front and moved down the line of prisoners, examining them one by one. The younger officers snickered and smirked as they followed him, touching some of the female prisoners in ways that made Stella squirm. As they moved along, a pair of fully armored soldiers escorted each prisoner to the front of the hangar, clustering them in two groups at the front of the room.
They’re sorting us, Stella realized. As the captain worked his way down the first row and into the second, she tried to imagine why. The group to the left was mostly made up of women, children, and old men, while the group on the right was almost exclusively young men. Contingents of armed troops stood watch over both, their weapons drawn.
Ben, Stella thought, her heart racing in her chest. Is he up there? Reaching down with one hand to keep herself covered, she stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck to get a better view.
One of the prisoners refused to move when the Hameji tried to march him off. The soldiers beat him across the face and forcibly pulled him forward, but he fell to his knees, refusing to get up. The captain gave a nod, and the nearest soldier leveled his rifle at the man’s head.
At the crack of the shot, Stella jumped, and her whole body started to tremble. Several of the other prisoners cried out and fell to their knees in terror. Someone was screaming—after a few seconds, Stella realized that it was her. She clapped her hands over her mouth and stared in horror at the sight, momentarily forgetting her own nakedness.
The man’s head was blown in half just above the nose. Blood and brains had splattered all over the prisoners immediately behind him, and several of them were shaking uncontrollably. As the soldiers dragged the body to the left corner, the prisoners in that group shrieked and edged away. Thick red blood smeared liberally across the grainy ceramic floor.
Oh my God, Stella thought to herself. Everyone in that group is going to die.
Soldiers went up and down the lines, forcing the prisoners back to their feet. The Hameji captain continued as if nothing had happened. In a few moments, he arrived at the little girl.
Stella froze where she stood.
He didn’t even stop. With a flick of his wrist, he gestured to the left. One of the soldiers took the girl by the shoulder and led her off, ignoring the trail of blood. As if sensing the danger she was in, the girl screamed and curled up in a ball on the ground.
No! Stella nearly screamed. Don’t shoot her!
The soldier didn’t. Instead, he scooped the girl up and carried her to the group of prisoners, dropping her unceremoniously to the floor. One of the older women wrapped her arms around her, giving her the comfort Stella longed to give.
It took Stella nearly a minute to stop hyperventilating and regain something of her composure. Even then, she didn’t have much dignity to regain; to the Hameji, she was little more than cattle to be sorted and slaughtered. Naked, defenseless, and surrounded by strangers, she was powerless—utterly powerless.
The captain had started on her row now, making his way towards her. She stared straight ahead, squeezing her knees a little tighter. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him send a young, black-haired man to the right, a short, plump woman to the left. He barely glanced over the old man before sending him with the rest of the condemned.
Then he stopped at her.
She held her breath and stared at the floor as he looked her up and down. With one arm over her chest and her free hand covering her lower half, she still felt horribly naked.
At a slight gesture, two soldiers stepped forward and pried her arms away. Stella resisted at first, but the soldier on her right hit her across the face with the back of his gloved hand. The force of the blow nearly knocked her over, but a quick slap on her butt forced her upright. Her cheek stung and her eyes began to water, but she knew that the soldier could have struck a lot harder.
She stood up straight now, fully exposed to her captors’ view. The younger officers gathered in a half circle, snickering as they ravished her with their eyes. She held her breath as the silver-haired captain stepped forward and began to feel her with his bare hands. With all the consideration of a rancher examining his cattle, he poked her stomach, pinched her breasts, squeezed her thighs, and felt the girlish muscles of her arms. It took all her effort not to cry out and shrink away from him.
Satisfied, he stepped back and conferred with the man on his right. As they talked, Stella wrapped her arms around her chest and covered herself again as best she could. To her relief, the soldiers didn’t stop her.
What now? Stella thought fearfully to herself.
The captain issued a command, and the soldiers took her by both arms and marched her off. A bolt of sheer terror surged through her body, but they took her past the group of condemned prisoners to the door on the far side of the room, stopping only briefly to wait for it to open.
It suddenly struck her that she might never see the room again. Energized by sheer desperation, Stella kicked out with her feet and looked frantically over her shoulder.
“Ben!” she screamed, shattering the silence of the hangar. “Ben—shout if you can hear me!” The soldiers started to drag her off, but she planted her feet and struggled against them as hard as she could.
The soldiers were much too strong for her, however. Within a few seconds, they forced her through the doorway and into the corridor beyond. Behind them, the door hissed shut.
Stella’s lip began to quiver, and tears came to her eyes. Annoyed by her defiance, the soldiers were a lot rougher with her now than before, twisting her arms so hard she almost felt they’d break. That wasn’t why she cried, though—she cried because her brother hadn’t called out to her.
Now she knew she was alone.
* * * * *
Ben squinted and blinked as the soldiers marched him into the empty hangar bay. The air reeked of bleach and disinfectant, mingled with other smells much more putrid. He felt something soft and squishy between his toes; glancing at his feet, he realized he’d stepped in a puddle of vomit.
The soldiers marched him to the back of a large group of prisoners, all standing in rows and columns facing the closed hangar doors in the front. Soldiers in black liquid-plate armor patrolled the room, their guns at ready.
There are too many people here to be from just our ship, Ben observed. I wonder where the others came from. Maybe Stella—
“Christopher!” Ava screamed from behind him. One of the prisoners—tall and muscular—spun around at the sound of her voice. He broke from the crowd and started running toward he
r.
The soldier on Ben’s right let go of him and moved to intercept Ava’s husband, even as two other soldiers ran at the man from the other direction. Christopher barreled into the first soldier, knocking him to the floor. To Ben’s right, Ava thrashed about, trying desperately to break free from the soldiers that held her.
Her husband made a mad dash, but the other two soldiers reached him before he could get to her. One of them clapped a gloved hand on his shoulder, while the other swung a black baton at his head. The weapon made a terrible cracking noise on impact, and the man stumbled and fell. Ava screamed, but the soldiers ignored her as they savagely beat him.
Ben watched with a mix of horror and anger. Ava’s scream turned to a wailing cry, and still the Hameji bastards didn’t stop. Ben’s hands clenched into fists, but he held his peace—now was not the time to fight back. Later, when he’d found Stella. He’d have his chance later.
After nearly a minute, the soldiers lifted Ava’s husband to his feet and marched him back to his row. He walked with a limp, a nasty purple splotch spreading rapidly along his side where his ribs were probably broken. No one made any attempt to get him medical attention.
Ben and Ava were the last prisoners out of the cargo hold. The soldiers put them at the end of the last row, about an arm’s length apart from each other. As soon as the soldiers released her, Ava collapsed onto her knees, burying her head in her hands with her black hair spilling over her shoulders.
Ben worried for a second that the soldiers would force her to her feet, but they did nothing. He wanted to comfort her, but no appropriate words came to mind.
Off to the left, a set of doors opened, and a group of men in gray uniforms stepped out. Most of them were young, but they followed a tall, stocky man with short, gray hair and a sharp goattee. From the authoritative manner with which he carried himself, Ben figured that he was the ranking officer—probably a captain. Everyone, including the soldiers, showed him deference.
