Rayessa and the Space Pirates

by Donna Maree Hanson

  ‘Gris,’ I gasped as I ran toward him. Up close, I could see his face looked better. It did not sag as much as it had the last time I’d seen him on the ship. The facility had repaired some of the damage, releasing the pressure on the brain. His body was thinner, dressed in plain overalls. That was from his time as a slave. Alwin and I had got to him just in time before he was too far gone.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him as I touched his cleanly shaved chin. He grabbed me to him and squeezed so hard. I could hardly breathe and I loved it.

  ‘I am much better now for seeing you, Rae. I thought I would never see you again.’

  After he placed me back on my feet, I smiled through my tears. ‘Nah. You can’t get rid of me that easy. You’re family.’

  ‘Family. I like the sound of that. Your friend Mr Anton filled me in on the details. I’m sorry about Stroder and that business with your father.’

  ‘Well it is all sorted now, though it was rather a strange story. I’m glad we found you, at least. Sorry you got sold because of me.’

  Gris frowned. ‘Mmm. My memory is a bit patchy and I don’t remember the slavery bit at all. I was pretty beat up by then. Good thing I suppose.’

  I stared at Gris in amazement. I hadn’t heard him talk normally before. He had a laid-back way of speaking and there was no slurring or the thick-tongue talking I was used to. My memory of him before the pirate attack was vague. I remember he was nice to me and that’s all. Now he was his old self. I felt good about that. Good that the Gayens’ foundation could put some things right.

  He hugged me again. With my cheek resting on his chest, I said, ‘Time to come home now, Gris.’

  ‘A real home?’

  ‘Yes. And if you behave nicely I’ll give you hardtack and beans. As much as you want.’

  We walked down the corridor, laughing at our shared joke.

  About the Author

  Donna Maree Hanson is an Australian writer of fantasy, science fiction, horror, paranormal romance and romance. As well as over 20 short stories published in various genres, she has had a small press publishing house, been an editor, slush reader and science fiction convention runner. She works for the Australian Government undertaking audits of government departments and their programs. She lives in Queanbeyan, near Canberra, with her youngest son, her ginger tom cat and her partner. Rayessa & the Space Pirates is her first longer work to be published.

  ISBN: 978-0-85799-015-0

  Title: Rayessa and the Space Pirates

  Copyright © 2012 by Donna Maree Hanson

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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  Excerpt from Legend Beyond The Stars by S.E. Gilchrist

  Star Time: Darkon Year 6035 – Earth Year 2156

  The best way to start a new mission was definitely not lying in an induced hiatus inside a coffin-shaped tube.

  Not to mention the agonising awakening to consciousness followed by long hours spent crouched over what passed as a toilet on this alien spaceship. The entire experience made Captain Alana Knight feel as if she had just trekked through the Gobi Desert hauling an armoured tank. She repressed a groan when her stomach muscles gripped hard before releasing.

  A shaky breath slipped past her lips as she continued to pace around the cabin. She did an abrupt about-face then retraced her steps, while she rubbed her stiff thigh muscles, her feet heavy like chunks of rock inside her anti-gravity boots. Finally, she stopped to stare at the viewing screen where the darkness of outer space stretched into infinity.

  Something was wrong.

  She concentrated on tuning out the constant, low whine of the turbines that powered the intergalactic space voyager as it cruised through the black. The background murmurs of the other women as they milled about in restless groups faded.

  Yep, something definitely stank.

  Ever since she had awakened, disquiet had gnawed at the edge of her mind. Awakened from a hiatus the traders had insisted was necessary to alleviate the rigours of travelling through the Vortex. She frowned. Had it been a ruse? Enclosed in her confining tube, she had been helpless. Anything could have happened to her during those weeks of sleep. She shuddered and flexed her damp hands.

  Best not go there.

  Not yet, anyway.

  She raised a trembling hand and tugged at the shaggy ends of her short, red hair, before pressing her fingers against her temple where pressure built like an over-heated fuel tank just waiting for the moment to explode. Until now, she had refrained from speaking about her doubts but with every hour that passed they travelled further away from home.

  Away from safety.

  “I sure am not keen on this here meetin’,” muttered the woman at her side.

  Alana spared her a quick glance, taking in the hint of fear in her brown eyes, the underlying pallor that gave the woman’s dark skin a sallow tinge."I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Jess,” she admitted in a low tone.

  Jessamine snorted. “I knew it!”

  “Hush, please, Jess. I don’t want to start a panic.” Alana sighed. “But, I fear you’re right. There are too many unanswered questions. Not to mention the traders’ strange behaviour in separating us from the men. It’s made us too vulnerable.” And an action that had left her the senior officer in charge of a motley band of unknown women.

  “Worse, some of us are not here of our own volition.” Jessamine produced a compu tablet from an enormous satchel slung over her shoulder and waggled it under Alana’s nose. “I’ve done a census as you suggested, Captain, and the facts sure don’t add up.”

  Alana twisted her lips into a parody of a smile. “Let me take a wild guess. We’ve got no scientists, doctors, physicists, militia. No geologists, no farmers, no builders …”

  “Could be those roles are filled by the men, but you don’t think so, do you? Some of the women do have similar qualifications but I’m missin’ a lot of names off the list you gave me. So, what does it mean?” Worry lines bracketed either side of the other woman’s mouth.

  “It means the United Earth Corporation has been duped. My gut tells me there’s no earth-like planet in the next star system for us to colonise.”

  “Oh, moma,” whispered Jessamine. The tablet clattered onto the floor.

  Alana gripped the other’s arm. “Don’t fall apart on me, Jess. I need you to be strong here. I suspect we’re going to find out very soon what the traders are up to. Our new friend, Norman , may have some answers for us.”

  She glanced up at the hiss announcing the opening of the entrance door and tried not to gawk at the alien they had christened Norman , as he bustled across the room. At least the word Norman sounded a little like the jumble of syllables he had repeatedly indicated he was called. Of humanoid build, at a distance he could have passed for a male of her species but closer the differences were apparent. Reed thin, of an equal height to her, the space suit he wore resembled an old potato sack on his spindly body. She marvelled at how hairless he was, with no
t even lashes or eyebrows to give his flat face definition. And the way his three eyes glowed neon orange when he was excited was just downright weird.

  Still, his incessant lecturing about life on board a star voyager had proved surprisingly reassuring while she had wrestled with space sickness and the wrenching pain of reawakening organs. He was the closest thing to an ally they had at the moment and she couldn’t help thinking they would need all the friends they could find if they were going to survive.

  She licked her cracked lips and thought about all those do’s and don’ts, which she had paid little attention to, over the past earth day while she had huddled, sweating, in the narrow chamber. Now his lectures could well have a lot more significance to her and the other women.

  At least they could communicate with him. With a shaky hand she touched the pencil-thin translator she wore, like the others, around her throat.

  The translators were only just one of the gifts given to the people of Earth from the first visitors who had appeared over one hundred years ago. History had it they had stayed a mere ten or so years before departing, never to return.

  In the long years since, Earth had struggled with an out-of-control greenhouse effect and violent weather patterns. Stock markets crashed as nation after nation collapsed in an ocean of debt. Coupled with an exploding population, the consequences had been devastating.

  Life, suddenly, became a battle for survival.

  When the Scaleen Traders appeared, they had been greeted as the answer to a desperate planet’s prayers for deliverance. The traders sold The United Earth Corporation on the idea of a ‘new-earth’ and offered transportation for the chosen few, at a price. The UEC wasted no time and assembled specialist teams who would form the first wave of colonists.

  The call went out for members of the United Defence Force to bear-lead the expedition and it had taken Alana as little as fifteen minutes to decide and four weeks to organise the sale of her apartment. Perhaps here was the opportunity to redeem herself even though no official stain existed on her unblemished record. But the deaths of her spotter and three members of an insurgent team under her command four years earlier, still haunted her. After that mission, she had requested and been granted, a shift in duties. All those countless months spent trialling space shuttles from Earth to Mars and back, had proved a good bargaining point with her application.

  Now, instead of attending the mega social event of her step-sister’s birthday in the family home in Sydney, she was stuck on some alien spaceship on a journey that she now suspected, was to nowhere. Surrounded not by familiar soldiers, but by women with little knowledge of battle; women who would be looking to her for answers.

  Alana clasped her hands behind her back and examined the other occupants. From what she could see, the only thing these women had in common was their age range. She doubted any were older than thirty-five at the most. Odd.

  She swung round and stared at the viewing screen, wishing herself a million miles away. Nothing but infinite blackness in all directions interspersed with far off swirls of colourful dust and space debris and the glow of distant stars. No matter how hard she strained her eyes, there was no sign of the familiar planets of the Milky Way.

  Her gut twisted like a knife scraping the sides of a raw wound.

  This was going to be one hell of a mission.

  Norman pattered to a stop in front of them, reclaiming Alana’s attention. He glanced from one to the other and back again until she felt dizzy watching him. He clapped his bony hands together, his eyes bright orange.

  “It is good that you are no longer damaged.” A smile stretched across his flat face revealing small pointed teeth.

  “Uh huh.” Jessamine tossed back her long black micro braids and eyed him as if he was a bomb about to explode at any second.

  “We’re all feeling much better, Norman.” Alana attempted a friendly smile of greeting. “Most of us no longer have any side effects. Jess and I want to know why we’ve been asked to assemble here.”

  The alien gave an irritated snort. “I do not see why you would question such a matter. Primitive life forms such as you naturally have limited reasoning capacity. It should be enough that you do as you are directed.”

  Damn, he is so irritating! And that high prissy voice! The sound scratched over her taut nerves like cat claws across concrete. About to snap a rejoinder, she directed a suspicious glare at the alien and straightened. Time to get some answers. “The traders have no right to direct us to do anything, unless it’s a matter of security and only while we’re on board this ship.”

  Norman folded his arms and frowned with severity looking for all the world like a three-eyed garden gnome. “This is not correct. The Scaleen traders are in charge and must be obeyed.”

  Alana remained silent, her gaze holding his.

  He slumped his shoulders, raised his hands in supplication. “We also are imprisoned on this ship.”

  Her throat tightened as her mind repeated his words, ‘imprisoned ….we also’. Her gasp was snapped off before it formed. Aw, damnit!

  She swallowed. Voice hoarse, she prodded, “We’d appreciate any information you can give us, Norman. We’re travelling blind here and we’ve got an awful lot of questions needing answers.”

  The glow of his eyes dimmed. She read a pitiful entreaty in his glum expression.

  “My race, the Jurians are scholars of the science of species. We are not warriors, nor are we explorers. Our numbers are few but our knowledge is valued. The traders are a different breed.” He sighed mournfully. “They know only of the lust for credit and the ease of prosperity. They trade with lives.”

  Jessamine whimpered, “Holy moma.”

  Alana sucked in air, waiting a beat until she had control over her voice to say, “We’re not heading towards a new colony are we, Norman ?”

  “Alas, Alana, you are correct. They have deceived your rulers.”

  “What about the women missing from my list?”

  Norman shrugged. “They were not considered suitable and were returned to your planet unharmed.”

  “Thank goodness they’re okay but what do you mean about being suitable? If we’re not being transported to a new colony then what do they intend to do with us?”

  “We have made a successful passage through the Azzirt Vortex. As we speak the ship approaches the Mirva System.”

  At his evasive answer, she glared at the hapless messenger. Names of places she had never heard of told her nothing. Beside her, Jessamine stood silent, her mouth sagging open, her eyes wide.

  The alien plucked at the skin on the back of his hand with thin fingers. His actions did not bode well for what he intended to impart next. Clearly troubled, he maintained an uneasy silence.

  “In this Mirva System, will we land on a habitable planet? What then?” asked Alana.

  “The voyager is too large to land on any planet. It docks at orbiting space stations and personnel use transport shuttles to travel to terra firma.” His gaze flittered about the room.

  “Please, Norman.”

  The alien’s pale olive-tinged skin blanched. “The Mirva System …” He hesitated and stared at her intently. “The Mirva System is an elliptical galaxy on the outer fringe of the local galaxy from which we hail.” He pointed a finger in the air. “Travel beyond the outer fringe is forbidden. But the Scaleen traders obey only those laws they will benefit from and chose to risk intergalactic imprisonment. You realise, of course, far, far beyond the outer fringe lays the vortex through which we need to traverse to reach your galaxy.” He waved a hand vaguely skyward.

  Behind her back, she clenched her hands into fists. “Then why do they take the risk?”

  He windmilled his hands with agitation. “The payload. For the promise of three energy spheres the size of my fist, many would risk all they possess to gain such wealth. Even their very lives!” he hissed, his face inches from hers.

  Alana stepped back a pace. “Energy spheres, huh? That sounds important. What
are they?”

  “Energy spheres are a renewable energy source mined in the Darkos system. They are the source of all wealth in our worlds. The desire for this power has lead to a battle that has raged for many cycles.”

  “So there’s a bunch of aliens kicking shit out of each other?”

  “Errrrr ….?”

  “I mean, these people are at war?” snapped Alana.

  Norman nodded his head. His voice sank to little more than a murmur. “In two rones, that is approximately two and a half of your earth hours, the voyager will reach the rendezvous point with the Darkons.”

  “And, then what?” She compressed her shaking lips into a tight line.

  “I am, indeed sorry to tell you that you will be sold. Carbon based females are what the Darkons hunt. You and the others are the payload.”

  She just hated it when she was proved right.

  Commander Tarak el Rajan strode along the corridor towards the Command Bridge, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

  A Darkon warrior dressed in battle armour uniform, the deep blue colour on his epaulettes signifying his allegiance to Tarak’s royal house, stood at the ready beside the entrance.

  Tarak punched his personal code into the small panel on the wall. He inclined his head in acknowledgement of the soldier’s salute. A bright green light shot towards him and, authenticity verified, the door slid upwards. Pausing inside the entrance, he surveyed the busy scene with grim satisfaction. Behind him the door slid shut, sealing him into the secure room.

  One of his captains seated before his consol, glanced up from his task and attracted his attention. “Sir, it appears we have company.” With long blunt edged fingers, he clicked a series of commands onto the array of glowing markings indented on the bench.

  A stream of light flowed from the ceiling. A holo display appeared in the air in front of them.

  Tarak leaned over his subordinate’s shoulder to study the data. A low grunt of irritation emerged from his throat. He straightened. “How long until contact?” He kept his voice measured and cool.