StarShip Down

by Darrell Bain

  “Shit! And you say that's not rape? Being forced into something like that?” Esmeralda was furious and she was certain her face and attitude showed it.

  “Shut up. It's better than being held down and having every swinging dick here screw you, lady. I don't like it either. I hadn't planned on that part of it when I pulled my stunt but that's the way it is. I don't want any man but Crag but I'm going to have to take others just like you two are.”

  Esmeralda began to protest but Sarah cut her short.

  “There's no use arguing. The issue is settled already. The only question is which men you settle with. Crag and Fondez agreed to give it a week while you mix with them. Same for the other women who were convicts. They weren't all acquainted with each other before being put on the ship, you know. And then they were in individual cells.”

  Esmeralda glanced over and saw Morehill with the half dozen females who had been shipped out with the men. He was talking to them and waving his hands. She controlled her temper with an effort.

  “There's one more thing.”

  “Shit. Now what?” June Sillers said.

  “Let it be, June. What is it?”

  “The army guys. You can't pick from them.”

  “You mean they don't get any women?”

  “No, they just can't have either of you. Crag doesn't want that many of you hanging together. Not now, anyway. Later on, there may be some changes.”

  “How so?”

  “Crag will explain when the time comes. Now let's go. The mixing starts now. I'd advise you to be polite regardless of what you might think of any individual man, or woman, for that matter.”

  “Just a minute, Sarah.”

  “What?”

  “Did you see what I did to that one bastard who grabbed at me?”

  “I saw. He had it coming.”

  “Well, you pass the word. Any man who even thinks about getting rough with us can expect worse than a sore arm. We know how to fight.”

  “Good enough. I do, too, for that matter.” For the first time since the conversation began, she smiled.

  Gudgingly, Esmeralda returned it. She had seen women in love before. She had been in love before. She knew how addled it could make a woman and it was obvious this one was head over heels for Morehill.

  And now, only weeks later, she had three “husbands” as Morehill and that fuck Fondez had decided to designate them. One of them was nursing a broken wrist after ignoring her admonition that she wouldn't tolerate anything other than normal sex and certainly no rough stuff. The next morning she had gone straight to Morehill and reported it. Now he was banished from sleeping with her for the indefinite future and possibly forever if he could arrange a swap. One of the others wasn't so bad considering the circumstances but she doubted she would ever develop any real feelings for him. The third, Jan Budding, she might possibly grow to at least not mind too much, but she wouldn't take any bets. It was still rape.

  She rolled onto her side and tried to go back to sleep but her mind wouldn't stop working. She wished there was something she could do about the hollows in June's face and the black smudges under her eyes but she was helpless to change any of the basic parameters of their situation. Not yet, anyway and June was taking it badly. She really couldn't blame the little corporal because no matter what kind of spin Fondez and Morehill put on it, rape was rape. Sillers could hardly bear it, whereas she had accepted the situation and was making the best of the sordid state of affairs until there was a chance to change it. She didn't know what that said about her as a person. Stronger, perhaps? She had to think so because that was what kept her going. That and the possibility of reversing it all. She felt as if she had worked a miracle just keeping her little automatic concealed. Maybe one day soon when Morehill eased up on their former guards talking to one another more than necessary they could get something going, but not yet. Especially when Jimmy was being kept busy teaching Morehill how to operate the tender. But it would come.

  * * * *

  Sandy wiped grease from her forehead with a rag and stood back from the dismounted laser cannon with a satisfied expression. She had worked with the machine shop crew through the painstaking task of moving the heavy weapon out of the ship and upgrading the tender's power system to handle it. It was done at night when it wasn't in use and spending some daylight hours machining the parts to mount the laser and its accompanying accessories in the tender when the word came. It had been a monumental job and still wasn't finished but the end was in sight now. All that remained was the delicate task of fitting the laser into its new home. She had cursed bitterly upon hearing that the convicts had been seen and photographed by the satellite but Captain Callahan refused to risk their lone tender to rescue their own people. Intellectually, she could understand his reasoning just from seeing all the jobs it was used for, but emotionally she could only think of the twins and how they must be suffering. She wouldn't allow herself to think they were dead except sometimes at night in her lonely bed. Even then she knew that if they had been killed, she would at least be among the tender crew going to wreak vengeance on the convicts soon. The captain would have to let her go on the mission. No one else could handle the heavy laser like her, not even Johannsen, the weapons officer.

  “About done, Sandy?” Johannsen asked. He had just finished checking all the work and could find not the slightest flaw. It was almost like Sandy and the laser cannon shared the computer link that controlled it.

  “It's ready and the tender is ready whenever Captain Callahan gives the word. And I hope it's soon!” She couldn't help letting her irritation at the delay show in her voice.

  “Patience, Sandy. It shouldn't be too long now. As a matter of fact, tomorrow you and I and the others chosen for the rescue mission are going to have a meeting to map out our strategy.”

  “Really? Gosh, that's great! Who else besides me and you will be going?”

  “I don't know yet. Hell, he may even bump me off but you're a certainty. Just a reminder, Sandy. Don't let the thought of the Smith twins interfere with your mission. They aren't the only ones there and they probably aren't even the ones being mistreated the worst.”

  “What ... oh. Yeah, I've thought about those two women in the army and that other woman from security. I guess they probably are having a rough time considering who captured them. I'll take my turn on the firing squad if it comes to that.”

  She could see that Johannsen was somewhat taken aback at the depth of her feelings but he should have known. If anyone had kidnapped Brenda and put her through what she imagined those women had suffered, she figured he would be ready to kill, too—or worse.

  “Maybe it isn't that bad over there. They have cleared some fields for farming, same as us. We've made a count, too and there doesn't seem to be too many missing.” Seeing the sudden light in her eyes he held up his hands. “No, we can't identify individuals, Sandy,” he said gently. “It's just barely possible to see them at all.”

  “Oh. There for a minute ... I should have known better. What time is the meeting?”

  “Eight o'clock sharp, right after breakfast.”

  “Okay, sir. I'll be there.” The planet's revolution didn't match that of earth. The days were almost thirty hours long but the minimal axial tilt meant daytime and nighttime were very nearly the same length. Which also meant she was usually very hungry by breakfast time. There would be no problem in being one of the first in line to be sure she wasn't late for the meeting.

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  * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  “Hey, my little boy toy, let's rest a while,” Bukha Sunwha said with a grin that emphasized two missing front teeth, a rarity in the age of easy dental fixes. Jerry couldn't help but stare every time she opened her mouth.

  Bukha couldn't help noticing him staring, either. “Hey, Jer, it happened right before they shipped us out, y'know? No time to get ‘em fixed so I'm stuck with ‘em now. And that means you're stuck with ‘em.”

/>   “Sorry,” Jerry apologized then straightened up and leaned on his hoe. He wasn't just stuck with the missing teeth but the whole woman and she wasn't a bargain under any circumstances. But one of the things that had drawn Sandy to the twins had been their good nature. Bukha might have been a criminal but he couldn't see where it mattered much now, not when there seemed to be such a slight chance of rescue. They were either well hidden or had been abandoned and which one didn't make much of a difference. Apparently this was going to be his life from now on unless Sergeant Wong came up with a plan. He sure didn't have one.

  “You're a nice boy, just like your brother.”

  “How can you be sure he's nice?”

  “My friend, she tell me.”

  “Friend?”

  “Seguro. She and me, same gang on earth.”

  Jerry wanted to ask how they had gotten mixed up in criminal enterprises but it had quickly become apparent that the former prisoners didn't like talking about what they had been convicted for. She had volunteered the information that she had been in the country illegally and that her mother had been of Hispanic extraction and her father Indonesian. Occasionally she let slip one piece of information or the other that made him think she hadn't been a really bad person and she was certainly easy enough to get along with. He could be worse off, he knew. George had been such a surly idiot that Morehill instructed two of his mates to beat the shit out of him, then stood by watching to make sure it didn't get out of hand.

  The lesson hadn't been lost on the rest of them. What's more, a couple of the men who tried roughing up the women had gotten the same treatment, or worse. Morehill might be a real badass but he wasn't stupid, Jerry had found out. The man knew if he intended to make his colony work, there had to be rules. It was what else he was planning that made him uneasy—and rebellious, if just in his mind.

  “Hey, Bukha, don't call me a boy toy, okay?” he said to get off that line of thought. A rebellion wasn't possible yet. The only slim hope he had was a single moment when Sergeant Wong spoke to him out of hearing of the others and told him to hang loose and be ready to fight if she told him to. He'd nodded and that had been the last he'd heard. All he really knew was that he hadn't seen anyone with her little holdout pistol. He knew she always carried it and that gave him a modicum of optimism.

  “Okay, Jer. You're a good boy. Now let's hoe for a while, okay? We still got two rows to finish.”

  “I'm glad someone here knew how to farm,” he said as he began swinging the unfamiliar tool again. At least the blisters have turned into calluses, he thought, and at that, he and the others who'd been in the army were better off than the rest. They already had calluses in most areas of their hands.

  “Sure, I grow up in a village, all farmers, huh? A hard life, no?”

  “Yeah, it sure is,” he agreed, although truth to tell it was more boring to him than hard. Anyone who had spent a year training in Sergeant Wong's platoon knew what hard really meant. Hoeing was a moron job in comparison. Nevertheless, it had to be done right as he had been told in no uncertain terms. Their life might well depend on it.

  When he and Bukha came in from the fields, he saw with disgust that several of the men hadn't finished their assignments. He knew in advance what they'd say. Too hard. They weren't used to it. They'd rather hunt. Shit. He wished Morehill would let them hunt. Maybe they'd get eaten. One man had been carried off by something but no one knew what. They'd heard a scream and found some blood but that was all.

  He missed the showers in the ship, too. Bathing in a lake with weeds, the local equivalent of fish and mud on the bottom left a lot to be desired. He made the best of it then waited while Bukha finished. They walked toward the tender where a big pot donated by the ship's kitchen bubbled with something or other. So far they had found only two sorts of tubers and one fruit that were edible. No one knew if they contained the necessary vitamins or minerals but everyone appeared healthy so far. Maybe they did.

  “Hey, Tom.” He nodded to his brother. The woman his twin shared with two of the cons was a bit better looking than Bukha but not nearly as personable, he thought. He still wasn't allowed to have lengthy conversations with his twin but no one said much to them for simply speaking. He thought it might be a harbinger of a time when they'd relax enough for Sergeant Wong to turn the tables on them. He hoped so. He wondered if Sandy still thought of him and Tom. Surely she did. It hadn't been all that long, even though sometimes it seemed like an eternity. He wondered idly what she'd think of the arrangements they'd been forced into.

  After the dishes were washed and the outside guards set to keep varmints out of the plowed fields, Morehill let them into the tender. Every other seat inside had been taken out and most of the others folded down into passable beds. It beat sleeping outside.

  “All right, people, listen up,” Morehill called. “I got some news to pass on.” When he had everyone's attention, he grinned but it was a tigerish expression with little mirth to it. “In another week or so, we're gonna try a little raid. I know everyone here thinks we need more women if we're gonna make it so that's what we're going after.” He paused to let that sink in. He met Jimmy's glare with an insolent curl of his lip and moved on.

  “I've learned to fly the tender now and Boxler knows how to work the bow gun. We still need a little more practice but pretty soon what we're gonna do is make a run to where the ship's parked and try taking out their tender. For you folks what came from the ship's crew, just don't get yer bowels in an uproar. I ain't planning on killin’ no one if we can help it. I just want to make damn sure they can't come after us no matter what happens. All we're gonna try is evening up the odds of men and women in this part of the woods.” He looked over to his co-leader.

  Fondez stood up. Somehow he managed to still appear comparatively neat and clean and his hair was combed. He had grown a short beard that actually enhanced his appearance.

  “If any of you think we ought not to try this, just reflect for a minute. Every single one of us offered to be good citizens after the ship was lost,” he said, including himself even though he wasn't even confined at the time. “Captain Gordon would have let us stay, I'm sure, but Callahan usurped his authority illegally and had us dumped here to die. I think no one can blame us for wanting to enhance our own colony. It's a simple matter of numbers and fairness. Since Callahan put us here, it's his fault and no one else's. We have no quarrel with any one else on the ship, just him. I feel sure that if he is ever deposed, we could probably combine our people peacefully but until then we do not do what we want, but what we must. I hope that's clear to everyone and I know you realize we have to bring more women here.”

  Jerry met his brother's gaze from across the passenger compartment. They didn't have to say a word or even alter their expressions to know what the other was thinking. They were too much alike. And both of them knew what a load of bullshit Morehill and Fondez were slinging. Unhappily, though, he saw June Sillers leaning forward almost eagerly at the news. If what they were proposing meant she could slough off a couple of the men she was being forced to live with, he knew she would have a hard time thinking ill of the idea. She wasn't adjusting like Sergeant Wong appeared to be.

  It was the officer, Jimmy Hollister, who really made him wonder. Why had he consented to Morehill's request to teach him to fly the tender if the end result was using it to attack the ship and its other tender? He thought it must have been a threat of some kind, probably to kill one of the army men if he didn't cooperate. Tom didn't know exactly how he felt about that. He certainly wanted to live but he sure didn't want to see their chance of rescue going down the tube. The bow gun was a different matter. The con manning it evidently had some experience. Maybe prior service? No way of knowing since he hadn't talked to the con. Morehill had kept him busy relearning the gun and other operational facts about the flyer.

  “You're being quiet, boy,” Reece Rondhill, one of his co-husbands said. He had been a body builder at one time and still had the muscle
s to prove it.

  Jerry looked at the short, heavy-set man with the receding hairline and said “Don't call me boy.”

  “Yeah, what'll you do about it?”

  “More than you think, Reece.”

  “You think you can take me?”

  “Any day of the week.”

  “Kill it,” Morehill said. “I'll put you both out on guard duty all night if you start fighting in here.”

  The two men glared at each other and looked away. Tom leaned back on the improvised bed and began to prepare himself mentally for lights out by remembering times when he had been in bed with Sandy. It was his night with Bukha and he needed something to stimulate him or she'd be bothering him all night.

  * * * *

  “It's back now,” Effers said to Brandon. “They seem to have settled into a pattern. They fly in the afternoon and use the tender for powering heavy chores in the morning. I can't tell for certain but it doesn't look as if they've managed to put together much in the way of equipment to run off it like we have.”

  Brandon shrugged. “We gave them the materials. If they don't use them, it's not our problem. It's good to see they have a pattern, though. That means we have to come at them in the morning. Do they always land in the same place?”

  “So far, and that's where they've located their equipment, such as it is. Not really much choice, same as us.”

  “Okay, I'll tell the captain.”

  “Has he set a date?”

  “Uh huh. Less than two weeks from today.”

  Effers turned away from his screen and looked up at Brandon. “Think it'll work?”

  “Hell, yes. We're sending enough troops to overpower them and we'll catch them with their tender tied up so it can't get off the ground quick enough to matter. We may take some casualties but failure isn't an option.”

  * * * *

  “Little bastards.” Esmeralda slapped at a flying creature the size of a hummingbird. It resembled neither mammal nor insect but something kind of like a bat, she had decided after examining the one she'd killed. Whatever, they neither bit nor sucked nor otherwise attacked humans but they couldn't seem to understand they weren't food without buzzing and fluttering around forever, it seemed.