“SARAH! Are you even listening to me!” Her mother’s voice served as a much-needed cool shower, and Sarah snapped back to reality.
“Yes, uh, sorry. What were you saying?” Sarah’s face was hot and her stomach tickled with anticipation. She closed the curtain and breathed in deeply a few times.
“I was saying, there’s a shuttle that leaves tomorrow afternoon. Sarah, I realize you have a lot of work, but I’m worried about you. Please come home. I will call Bernie and your professors and explain the situation. I’m sure you can finish your project from home. Look, I hate to pull this card, but your father hasn’t been feeling well lately and you know every time his health relapses, I get worried it will be the–”
“I’ll come home.”
“Oh really? Thank you so much darling. Surprising your dad might be just the thing to perk him right up!”
“What time is the departure?”
“3:25 your time, and it’s leaving from dock 57. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, Mom, I work on the docks remember?”
“Right, of course. Okay, so I’ll finish booking your seat and you’ll make sure to be on time, won’t you? I know how you get when you’re in one of your…day-dreamy states.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Okay good. And you’ll be safe until then? Maybe you should stay in tonight…”
“Mom, please–”
“Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll stop nagging you. I’ll see you tomorrow sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Sarah hung up the phone and threw her body into her couch. She wasn’t sure if she felt like crying, screaming, or laughing, so she decided to bury her face in her throw pillow instead. A part of her wanted to stay inside and sleep the rest of the day away, but deep down, she knew that if she were to sleep, she would likely dream about the Selachi again. Or worse, about the Kylen. Instead, she decided she needed some fresh air.
Without showering, Sarah threw some jeans on and tried to tame her bed-head curls with some water and a brush. Semi-satisfied with how she looked, she grabbed her bag and hurried off to the cafe, hoping more caffie-drink might help clear her head.
3
Safe Travels
The television in the café was set to the 24-hour intergalactic news station. A Para woman and what appeared to be a halfsie man were delivering the latest in Kylen news. Apparently, another human woman was able to rise up the Kylen ranks and was made a soldier not too long ago. And, of course, anytime they mention anything having to do with the Kylen, they have to mention the human Kylen queen. If Sarah had a pinch for every time a newscaster said, “Well, let’s not forget about their new queen,” she’d have enough to open her own ship shop. Hearing about the Kylen was making Sarah anxious, and she asked the man behind the counter to change the channel. He switched it to spaceball game. It was the four-hundredth galactic cup, and even though Sarah didn’t much follow sports, anything was better than Kylen news.
Just as the Jupiter Jumpers, or as Sarah knew them, the red team, made a goal, Margaret and Braya walked into the shop and Sarah waved them over to her table. Sarah had called them on her way to the café and begged them to drop everything and finish the project today, that way she wouldn’t have to work while she was home with her family. The three girls cracked open their books without dilly-dallying and dove in. Sarah was having trouble concentrating, and she almost broke the silence and confessed to her day-dream, but she held back. Not only would that revelation beget endless criticism and teasing, but there was no way the three of them would be able to get back to work after that.
The afternoon went by slowly and painfully, but they eventually finished their project just before dinner.
“Who’s up for some noodles?” Sarah held up her wallet. “I’m buying.”
“Well in that case…” Margaret started putting her books into her bag.
“Sounds good to me!” Braya collected her things as well and left a few pinches on the café table as a tip.
“Six pinches?” Margaret gawked, “That’s more than our caffie-drinks cost!”
“They don’t get paid enough! Plus, the waiter kept refilling without us having to ask.” Braya looked over at the boy behind the counter and smiled.
“Aww.” Margaret winked at Sarah, “It looks like our little Braya has a not-so-little crush.” She fake sniffled. “They grow up so fast.”
Braya’s cheeks turned bright red, and Sarah pulled her into a hug. “It had to happen sooner or later.”
“Shut up! He’s going to hear you guys!”
“Oh yeah, and that would be a disaster,” Margaret raised her voice, “if THE WAITER KNEW YOU LIKED–”
Braya clasped a hand over Margaret’s mouth and pushed her out the door. Sarah ran after them, laughing so hard that, for a moment, she forgot all about the Selachi, the Kylen, and her dad. For a moment, Sarah was hopeful.
Sarah struggled to make her way through the crowds of people swarming the docks. She had her large duffle and an overflowing backpack weighing her down, and a few times, she had to use the former as a makeshift battering ram just clear a path for herself. She arrived at Bernie’s only twenty minutes before her shuttle was scheduled to take off, to find that the shop, despite the heavy street traffic, was completely empty. She found Bernie in the back room, carefully picking through the few the spare pieces of plexiglass.
“You’re supposed to wear gloves when you do that.”
“No.” Bernie groaned a bit as he lifted a large piece from the pile and above his head, “You’re supposed to wear gloves when you’re doing this. I’m an expert.”
“And what makes you the expert on not getting cut?”
“I’ve been cut so many times, I’ve learned my lesson.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes. “So why can’t I learn the same way?”
“Because that dear mother of yours would kill me if I let anything happen to you. Besides,” Bernie winked, “your hands are much too delicate.”
“Oh yeah,” Sarah made her hands into fists and put them up in front of her face, “I’ll show you delicate.” She lightly jabbed her right hand towards Bernie’s face, without getting anywhere near close enough to touch him.
Still holding the plexiglass over his head, Bernie motioned with his chin to her left hand and said, “Don’t drop the left when you jab with the right. Always keep your guard up.”
Shaking her head, Sarah grabbed part of the plexiglass and helped Bernie move it into the front room.
“So, which ship is this for?”
Bernie eyed her knowingly and muttered, “what do you think?”
“I didn’t see anything wrong with his windshield.”
“Well, I guess that’s why I’m the shop owner and you’re just the apprentice.” There was a bit of an edge in Bernie’s voice, and Sarah realized he hadn’t completely forgiven her.
“Bernie, I’m sor—”
“Come over here.”
Sarah joined Bernie at the front of the StarKisser 3000.
“You see this right here?” Bernie pointed to the offensive sticker in the bottom right hand corner of the windshield.
“I mean, yeah, it’s ugly, and downright objectifying, but I don’t think it’s enough to justify a whole new windshield.”
Bernie didn’t say anything. He pushed his thumb nail underneath the corner of the sticker and lightly pulled it back, revealing a small, but crucial crack in the windshield.
“Huh.” Sarah leaned in to get a closer look. “You think he knows it’s there?”
“Oh, he knows alright. That’s probably the only reason he put the sticker on in the first place. You see, it’s against regulations to fly with a crack like this; it’s too dangerous. And, as a certified Ship Repair man, I’m not allowed to let a ship leave my shop with one of these.”
Sarah looked down at her feet. “Oh.”
“You could have gotten me in a heap of trouble if I didn’t happen to catch
this. Lucky for you, I’ve been in this business a long time, and I know all the tricks.”
“I…I’m really sorry. I just wanted to prove myself to you. It won’t happen again, I swear.”
Bernie looked at Sarah and sighed. “It’s okay; it’s an honest mistake. I’ll tell you what, when you get back, as long as you stop going behind my back, I’ll start giving you some more responsibility.”
“You mean I’ll actually get to work on a ship?”
“We’ll start with you repairing parts outside of the ship, how’s that sound?”
Sarah just smiled and threw her arms around Bernie’s neck.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Bernie unwrapped himself from her tight embrace and checked his watch, “You better get going. Your mom said to make sure you didn’t miss your shuttle.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course she did.”
Knowing another hug would really overwhelm her stoic and detached mentor, Sarah simply grabbed her bags and called a quick goodbye over her shoulder as she ran out the door.
Seeing as the holiday break didn’t officially start for a few days, the shuttle was almost entirely empty. Sarah was the last passenger onboard and she had her choice of over fifty different seats. She chose one in the back, right next to the small kitchenette, that way she would be the first one served when they started handing out snacks. She put her backpack on her front, and wrapped the strap of her duffle around her feet, before tucking it under her seat. She had traveled a lot, and had seen too many people lose their belongings simply because they fell asleep without a good grip on their stuff. Putting her headphones in, Sarah leaned her head back and drifted off before the pilot even began his pre-flight announcements.
The ship jerked violently, throwing Sarah out of her seat and against the wall. She hit her head and lay on the floor dazed for a few seconds. As she came to, Sarah felt a bead of blood drip down her forehead. She stood up slowly, and blinked her eyes, trying to refocus her vision. Everyone and everything was disheveled. Luggage littered the pathway between the seats, and many of the passengers were lying unconscious or badly injured. There was a scream from the front of the shuttle, the sound of a weapon being discharged, and then silence.
Sarah could hear noise coming from the emergency hatch in the ceiling, and with horror she realized someone was trying to open it. She frantically searched for the emergency oxy-helmets, all while silently berating herself for not listening to the emergency announcements. She saw a bench near the front of the shuttle with a large red exclamation point painted on the side. As she ran towards it, Sarah called for those awake to help her.
“Someone is trying to open the hatch! Quick, everyone needs to get an oxy-helmet on!”
Those who were conscious were slow to understand what she was saying, but there was no time to explain. She started removing oxy-helmets and throwing them at anyone whose eyes were open.
“Put them on yourself first, then find someone unconscious and put one on them! Hurry, they are starting to unscrew the hatch!”
Sarah recognized the sound of a drill, and she counted each stop and start, trying to keep track of how many out of the eight screws in the hatch had been removed. After getting her oxy-helmet on and secure, she collected two more and searched for anyone still without one. She spotted a man, lying unconscious, near the back and hurried over to him. Just as she kneeled to put the helmet on, the door to the pilot’s quarters burst open and a large, blue figure emerged.
“STOP!” the creature yelled in a language Sarah recognized but could not immediately place. She turned only to realize she was looking down the barrel of a massive, high caliber Gamma-Blaster. “LEAVE HIM!”
Pulling her eyes away from certain death, the young woman dared to make eye contact with the person, or rather, the thing, that was threatening her life. It was a Kylen. His skin was the shade of the Earth’s deep seas, and his white horns were decorated with some sort of ceremonial design. But Sarah was oblivious to these details. All she noticed was the soft, gray color of the Kylen’s eyes.
Her inhale stopped short of her lungs, just as the final screw of the hatch came loose, and with a near-defining whoosh, all the air in the ship escaped like fish released from a net. The helpless human looked up, engrossed by the intense beauty of the starry universe, as the man whose head she was holding in her lap, gulped for a breath that would never come.
4
Captivity
Sarah walked timidly towards the door of her father’s study. Or, what used to be his study. Ever since Thomas Dawson had fallen ill, the study served more as a hospital room than anything else. Melanie, his wife, had purchased one of those beds on wheels and cleared out a large portion of Thomas’ beloved library. She feared the decade’s worth of dust that clung to many of the volumes was making her husband’s cough worse. Thomas hated sleeping in the study, and each time he went into remission, he and Melanie had the same fight.
In fact, they were having it now, as Sarah listened quietly, her ear pushed hard against the heavy Mahogany door.
“Darling, I know you hate it down here.”
“Then why do you insist on imprisoning me in this depressing room?”
Melanie sighed, “I’m not imprisoning you,” Sarah heard her mother’s voice catch in the way it always did before she started crying, “but this way you’re closer to the kitchen, and you don’t have to use the stairs and…and…” the woman’s reasoning was cut short by the onset of a wet sob erupting from her chest.
“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay my love.” There was a creaking sound as her father struggled out of his bed. “Please, don’t start again. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s not you. It’s this damn disease.”
“Cursing it won’t make it go away. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
The two were silent. Sarah turned her head to peer through the crack in the door. Her parents were standing in the middle of the room, holding on to each other so tightly she could see the veins in their arms protruding from the intensity.
“Do you know why I hate sleeping down here?” Thomas loosened his hug and looked down at his wife.
“Because it’s cold?”
“Because you’re not sleeping next to me.”
“Wake up!” Scared by the booming voice, Sarah fell back away from the door. “Wake up!” The voice seemed to simultaneously come from the heavens and from inside Sarah herself. “I said WAKE UP!”
Sarah’s senses were awakened by an acute pain in her lower back. Someone had kicked her. Hard. Opening her eyes, she involuntarily let out a pathetic moan. She was lying on the cold metal floor of what looked to be a storage room of a foreign ship. Her oxy-helmet had been removed, and she was bleeding from a cut near her left eye. As her vision adjusted to the dim light, she realized she was not alone. There were three figures standing over her, and two others lying on the ground next to her. As she tried to sit up, she realized her hands were tied behind her back.
“Get her up!” one of the figures yelled. A slimy hand wrapped around Sarah’s arm and yanked her into a sitting position. Her head swam like a drunken fish, and she felt the sting of upcoming vomit in the back of her throat.
Swallowing her sick, Sarah forced herself to focus and look up at her captors. One of them was a halfsie, but what made up each half she couldn’t determine. There was a strong looking female Haraldie with perfect, uniform scars, running down both her arms. Upon seeing the third creature, Sarah could no longer control her stomach. She bent over and let loose her lunch all over the Selachi’s leather shoes.
“Uuk! These are new shoes you little bitch!” The Selachi raised his fist, but before he could bring it down on Sarah’s temple, the Haraldie woman grabbed his arm.
“Don’t, Jent! She needs to look pretty for the markets. Swollen lips and black eyes don’t sell.”
The two aliens stared angrily at one another for a moment, and then Jent throw his arm down indig
nantly. “Fine. But you’re cleaning these.”
The Haraldie woman simply shrugged, bent down close to Sarah and started touching her face. She pulled Sarah’s eyes open, checked her teeth, and smelled her hair.
“Hey! Stop!” Sarah squirmed as much as she could, but it was in vain.
The Haraldie woman pulled Sarah onto her feet. “Okay.” She motioned to the halfsie. “Pitt, get her clothes off.”
“What? NO! Wait!” Sarah backed herself against the wall and prepared to kick whoever came near her.
The halfsie man approached her slowly. “This will be a lot easier if you cooperate.” He sounded almost regretful and his eyes were overcast with what Sarah recognized as fear. That was her way out.
Captain’s Claimed Property Page 2