by L. E. Thomas
Josh had taken his blows, too. The second day, a guard smacked him across the side of the head with the butt of a laser rifle. He hadn't seen it coming. Apparently, the guard simply walked by and hit him, or at least that's the story Josh was told much later when woke in another cave. Delmar had saved him, offering to carry him from the site after work detail. The tender lump growing just above his ear reminded him of the guard’s cruelty, and of Delmar’s kindness.
When they weren't stripping spacecraft or escorting prisoners to their deaths, the pirates dropped them in caverns deep into the asteroid to mine for minerals and precious metals. The workdays stretched so long Josh didn't know if he had ended up in hell itself. Delmar, his worn hands covered in calluses, always extended to offer assistance. Josh would be dead by now if not for Delmar. He would tell his friend as much if it seemed such things mattered to him. No, Josh thought, Delmar attacked work like he punched a clock every day. It was nothing to him. It was like he had a magical cloak to shield him from the horrors of this place.
"How do you do it?" he asked.
Delmar stared at him, a quizzical look on his face. "How do you mean?"
"Day in and day out. You keep trying, keep moving ahead and concentrating on the task at hand. How?"
His friend's face warmed. "It is easy. I know we will be delivered to safety. Some day. You will see."
Josh snorted. "I don't even know where we are. Even if I could-"
Suddenly aware he spoke loudly, Josh glanced over his shoulder at the cave entrance. Leaning forward and lowering his voice, he continued, "Even if I could get to a ship, I don't even know where we are."
Delmar grinned. "We are in the Amade Cluster, Quadrant Eight. This is the secondary base of the pirates, although I do not know the name of this specific planetary body."
Josh blinked. "How do you know that?"
A horn sounded, and footsteps stormed down the hall. The other prisoners rustled. When the guards came every other day, it meant more work, food or new additions to the workforce. Since Josh couldn't stomach the thought of eating more green sludge, he hoped for more workers, but felt a tinge of guilt for wishing such a thing on any newcomers.
The gate opened, and one Tyral Pirate stood at the entrance, his muscular arms resting on his hips. "Get in there!"
The guard forced six new spacers inside the room and closed the gate behind him. The men, dressed in an assortment of ragged flight suits, collapsed in an undignified heap of flesh in the center of the cell. Their tattered clothes grasped at their bodies by threads. Fresh cuts and bruises covered their faces and bodies. These men had been in a fight.
Although their flight suits were torn and ripped, there seemed to be a uniform aspect to the newcomers as if they belonged together. However, Josh knew the uniforms were not Legion types he had ever seen before. Josh looked closer, saw no insignias or ranks. Still, the men seemed to be together and not just a random selection of six spacers. They glanced around the cave, their eyes frantically moving. Their skin glistened with sweat. Fear hovered around the newcomers, except for one man in the center.
Josh looked at him. With his bulky broad shoulders, the center newcomer glared with ice blue eyes at each prisoner in the room. A thick, bushy red beard grew out from his face like a fire frozen in time. He locked eyes with Josh, held the stare for a heartbeat, and moved on, silently challenging each man in the room to make a move toward him.
None did.
The man saw to the other newcomers, kneeling to provide a kind word or offer a pouch of water. After the ferocity in his face a moment before, the leader of the newcomers showed compassion toward his men. He checked their wounds, touched their shoulders as he spoke.
"Who are they?" Josh whispered.
"Barracudas probably," Delmar said with a shrug, "but if they are, they've been the property of our hosts for quite some time."
"Barracudas?"
He lowered his gaze. "A smuggling group. They operate throughout Quadrant Eight. Have done so for years. They work on Legion planets and anywhere else they can operate."
Josh frowned. “So they’re like the Tyral Pirates?”
“Not exactly.” Delmar leaned back against the rock wall. “These Barracudas operate in materials and objects, never in the slave trade. And they do it well.”
Josh rested on his elbows. "Interesting."
*****
Three hours into the second day of pounding rocks, his shoulders burned. Josh wiped the sweat from his brow with his tattered shirt, the same garment given to him when he arrived. He risked a glance around the cavern. Men focused downward on mining the boulders, covering the rocky surface like a beehive. Delmar worked near Josh as always. Although older, the man never seemed to waver. He lifted the pulverized rock fragments onto the hovering flat that moved away when filled.
The Barracudas adapted to the extreme working conditions, filing into the work detail like experienced laborers. At the beginning of their second workday, the Tyral Pirate guards removed one Barracuda from the mining crew along with several others. Josh wondered where they had moved the new group, but Delmar advised against asking. Josh hoped the guards took them to strip another freighter, but thought it was a false hope.
The massive leader of the Barracudas often worked near Josh. The bald man looked feral as he tore into the rocks each day. It was as if the boulders themselves had wronged him. The man worked in silence except for grunting.
But today the man worked beside Josh. They spent the first hours in grim silence. The man lifted the pick ax over his head and smashed it into the rocks. He used the ax to move around the rubble he had created before lifting the tool again. The force of his work shook the ground. Josh glanced at his own arms, comparing them to the beast of a man near him. Having played football, Josh always thought his arms were toned, something that made him proud. Working next to this man made him feel small, weak.
As he gazed out into the dense asteroid field surrounding their prison, the reality of his situation pressed on him. With the amount of guards constantly standing watch, there would be no escape in his future. There would be no stealing a vessel. If he did, Dax Rodon would pursue and hunt him down before he could plot a curve to take him to Legion space. Or they would just destroy him. He would never get out of here alive.
He sighed and lifted his pick ax. He plunged it into the rocks, ignoring the fact he did not make the ground shake like the leader of the smugglers.
A force pushed him from behind, thrusting his head backward.
"What the hell?" Josh cried out, spinning around.
The hulking man squared off with him, his sweaty biceps bulging as if they would rip through the skin. His eyes widened, blazing like blue fire.
"Watch where you swing that thing, little man," the Barracuda leader said with a booming voice. Even with the translator working in his ear, the man's voice growled, rising above the chaotic noise of the workers.
Other workers turned in their direction.
"I didn't mean to do anything," Josh said, gripping the handle on his ax.
The man shoved Josh hard to the chest, pushing him backward. His heel caught a boulder, and Josh tumbled backward into the pile of rocks. The back of his head hit a stone. His vision wavered and darkened. Dimly, the outline of his attacker loomed over him like a gothic statue; the ax cocked back like a weapon.
Delmar burst into his line of sight and grabbed the back of the ax poised to smash into Josh's skull. The speech garbled in Josh's ears, but Delmar yelled for the man to stop.
"They will kill us all if you do this!" Delmar snapped, his voice gruff.
The smuggler lowered the ax, shrugged off Delmar and slowly turned back to his work.
Delmar knelt on one knee and offered to help Josh rise. He felt like he was on a carousel when he stood, the world spinning around. His legs wobbled, and he pressed a hand to the back of his head. A fierce pain flashed from the back of his skull. Delmar glanced around and led Josh back to his mining si
te in the center of the common area near the hangar floor.
"Come now,” Delmar said. “No guards have noticed. Try to get back to work."
"I didn't do anything," Josh said, wincing as Delmar thrust the ax back in his hand. "I didn't even touch that guy."
"Quiet," Delmar said. "He is their leader, trying to exert his influence. You are fine now. Finish the day."
His arms sapped of strength and his head still spinning from the collision with the rock; Josh spent the rest of the day attempting to look as busy as possible. The guards usually targeted the resting prisoners, so Josh focused on keeping his head low.
The hours dragged, the endless labor blurring one site to another until the entire universe seemed comprised of these strange brown and gray rocks. He would obliterate a rock, load it on the drone cart, watched it fly away and continue the process again. His lungs burned, and his mouth felt like cotton. Just when he thought the workday would end, the guards moved them to another site. With artificial fluorescent lights illuminating the cave like a highway construction site, he had no sense of how long they had been working.
After what could have been two days or more, the guards halted the work. Several prisoners collapsed on the rocks where they worked, sometimes in mid-swing. Josh glanced around, his mouth hanging open like a caught fish as he gasped for air. The workers who remained standing stared into space, their minds wrecked and any sense of humanity sapped. The guards marched the prisoners who could still walk back to the common cell like a line of cattle. The prisoners on the ground reached for them as they passed. A worker in front of Josh reached down to help an older worker. A guard smacked the helper in the back of the head, and he tumbled next to the gray-haired prisoner. Josh glanced at the man as he passed, saw the bloodshot eyes surrounded by wrinkled skin.
Two laser blasts echoed throughout the hall. No other workers tried to help the exhausted men who remained on the floor. More laser shots flashed. Josh struggled to put one foot in front of the other.
No one spoke, not even the guards.
When they entered the common area, Josh collapsed onto the ground next to Delmar. His friend tapped him on the shoulder as Josh rolled over on his back.
“Rest, my friend,” Delmar whispered.
“Don’t worry.” Josh took in a long, slow breath. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being there.” Josh blinked and closed his eyes. “Nice to have a friend.”
Delmar murmured an affirmative as others collapsed around them. The workers fell to the ground in a heap. Snores filled the air in seconds. After staring at the rock about him for a moment, Josh drifted into a dreamless sleep.
A hand the size of a baseball glove wrapped around his ankle, a strong force sliding him across the cave floor. His head banged on the rock. His teeth buried into his tongue. The salty taste of blood filled his mouth. When he stopped moving, he tried to stand, but his muscles refused. The massive hands clasped his shoulders and thrust him into the air like a doll. He gasped for breath, but a hand pressed against his mouth.
“Stay quiet or I will snap your neck.”
Despite the darkness, Josh knew it was the smuggler leader. The man’s massive silhouette loomed over him. Josh nodded, and the man removed his hand, placing him on the cave floor. The rest of the workers slept in the darkness. A pirate guard at the cave’s entrance faced the other way, his attention on lighting some kind of cigarette.
“What do you want?” Josh breathed.
The man leaned in, close enough Josh smelled the stench of his breath. “They say you are a pilot?”
“Who says that?”
“The other prisoners here.”
Josh thought for a moment. “Aren’t you a smuggler?”
“I am captain of the vessel Traveler. I am not a pilot.” He gripped Josh’s shoulder hard. “I ask you one last time; are you a pilot?”
Josh winced, his muscles sore as the man buried his fingers into his shoulder. “Yes. I’m a pilot. What of it? It’s not going to do us any good.”
The hands took a harder grip on Josh’s shoulders and pushed him into the wall. Josh clenched his teeth, trying to keep from making a sound.
“What do you fly?” the man asked.
“Fighters.”
The smuggler leaned in close, the heat of his breath on Josh’s face. “You are military? You are a Zahl pilot?”
“No.”
He shook Josh. “Legion then?”
“I am a prisoner like you!” Josh snapped. “What the hell does it matter what I did before? You wanna talk the night away or did you wake me for some purpose?”
The man smiled, keeping his vice-like grip on Josh’s shoulder. “Getting angry, little man?”
Josh grabbed for the man’s wrist, but his strength could not move the massive arm. He sighed. “Yeah, I’m pissed off I have to be in here with you when I could be sleeping. Tell me what you want before I have to start a fight I’ll lose.”
The grip lightened, and the man snorted as he steadied Josh against the rock. “You have balls.”
Josh shook his head. “I’ve got nothing to lose. What does it matter? I’ve been here longer than you, and I don’t have the strength to work another day, much less fight you all night.” He looked into the man’s eyes. “If you’re going to do something, do it.”
The man released his grip and gestured to the rock floor. “Sit.”
Josh fell to the ground and leaned up against the rock. His body went limp. He gazed into the darkness. The man sat next to him and grunted.
“I don’t want to go out like this,” the man whispered. “My crew expected better.”
Josh shrugged. “This wasn’t on my list of plans either.”
The man grunted, burying his hand inside his bushy red beard. “My name is Waylon Neary.”
“I’m Josh.” He rested his head in his hands for a moment, hoping the pounding headache would eventually subside. “So did you really wake me up to find a pilot or did you just want to fight?”
Waylon exhaled. “I really don’t know. Maybe both.”
“Well, if you have a plan to get out of here, I’d like to hear it.”
Waylon folded his arms across his chest and stared into the darkness. “I have something in mind but haven’t worked out the details.”
For the first time in a long while, Josh felt a sense of hope. His heart raced as he thought of escaping this rock. “And what would this plan entail? It’s not like there are a lot of choices out there.”
Waylon sighed. “When they brought us in, a line of freighters had landed with an assortment of supplies. It seemed regular, like it was scheduled.”
“A scheduled delivery? The freighters left?”
Waylon nodded. “Seemed like they were prepping for takeoff.”
Among other less than savory practices, the Tyral Pirates were known throughout Quadrant Eight for stealing ships of all kinds, stripping them, and selling off the pieces to the highest bidder. As for their supplies, his CO on Tarton’s Junction said Dax Rodon stole all the resources he used to create his sad little empire. Josh had never heard of them doing any business that would result in a scheduled delivery. Who would be doing business with the pirates?
“What was on the freighter?”
“Crates of some kind, looked official. Some kind of military equipment. I didn’t get a chance to linger, you know?”
Josh gestured toward the guards. “They never go away, so how in the world do you expect to get off this rock.”
“I’m working on it. We’ll have to keep an eye on the next prize the pirates bring in here. Do they move us often?”
Josh gazed at the floor. “I’ve been on this rock for a while—I don’t know how long. We work long hours, and I’ve lost track of the time, but ships are coming and going all the time. They bring in freighters for us to strip. When we’re not doing that, they put us in these caves to mine this mineral.”
“It’s Lutimite.”
Waylon shrugged. “It’s what powers ships in the Zahl Empire. Pretty common in those space lanes, but we don’t see a lot of it in Quadrant Eight. Powers the Lutimite Reactors, but that’s beyond me. Zahlians pay a pretty penny for it.”
Josh chewed on his bottom lip, staring off into the darkness. “So we need to steal a ship.”
“I’d recommend that over escaping through an airlock on your own. I think you’d get farther.”
Josh shook his head. “Right.” He nodded. “Okay, I can help you but Delmar is coming with us.”
“Who?”
“My friend. He’s the man next to me today in the pits.”
“The old man?”
“Yes,” Josh said, looking at him. “Either he comes with us, or I’m out.”
Waylon nodded. “You promise you can fly whatever we decide to steal coming through that hangar, and you can bring anyone you want.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The shrouded vehicle shot across the grass at the entrance of Kadyn's neighborhood, invisible tires shredding through the grass. Austin turned back, saw two trenches splitting the entrance in front of the subdivision sign. Mud and grass clippings littered the roadway.
"Watch it!" Austin yelled.
"No time." Sharkey pressed down on the gas, and Austin gripped the door handle. "Where?"
"Second left," Austin said through clenched teeth. "Then about a mile down the road."
"You don't think anything has happened to her?" Austin felt a wave of uneasiness.
"We'll find out soon enough."
The car moved into the left lane and around a winding curve at the front of the subdivision. The tires screeched. Sharkey eased off the gas and let the momentum carry them through the turn. He accelerated through a stop sign and slammed on the brakes to prepare to turn onto the second street.
