by Jon Gerrard
Chapter Four
Things quieted down quickly after Bobby climbed down from the overhead. Ian slipped away to find a private place to sit while Chris and I helped Ricky back to the corner with the other transport crew members. The crowd that had gathered around us broke up as quickly as it had assembled. Apart from the transport crew, Alex and I were the only ones who knew anyone else and everyone went off to sit by themselves.
The bay grew very quiet as we all sat wrapped in our own private thoughts. With nothing to do everyone just sat there staring off into space. I was no different. Like most of the others I sat stiffly against my chosen section of bulkhead and dozed from time to time, unable to get any true rest on that unyielding deck. On those few occasions when I did manage to drift off for a while I was bothered by nightmares of explosions and running through a shadowy landscape. I eventually resorted to pacing to keep myself awake.
After a long while our captors brought us the first of what would be several meals. We were each treated to a cold bowl of gray gruel with sparse fragments of what seemed to be protocarb floating in the watery slop. My portion had a bonus—there was a cockroach swimming in my bowl. By this point I was so hungry that I simply dipped the bug out with my finger and flicked it aside. No matter where humans went those little vermin found a way to follow. Alex and I gave each other a brief look then forced ourselves to choke it down. It tasted like chalk and several of the others refused to eat it at first. A few hours later however every bowl was empty.
That became our routine. The meals were the only way we had to keep track of the time. My own internal clock said that they brought us one meal a day—and I could swear that they forgot us once. Altogether I estimated we were confined to that filthy hold for a week, a week during which we could do nothing but sit and wait.
At first everyone sat by themselves and simply stared around at everyone else. Whenever anyone did speak it was usually in hushed whispers. Doc Jacobs was kept busy tending to the medical needs of several of our fellow prisoners. Under his gentle care, Ricky and the others who had been hurt during the brawl slowly recovered. Thanks to the drugs Lucky had been able to smuggle aboard, the swelling around Ricky’s eye went down quickly and in a few days Doc declared that there would be no permanent damage to his vision.
Mary Jones, the large woman who had been nearly hysterical when we first came aboard, was also doing better. It turned out that she was a welfare mother who had been trying to raise her three grandchildren after her own drug addicted daughter abandoned them to prostitute herself on the streets. After she disappeared Mary continued to collect her daughter’s support voucher to care for the children. She knew she was supposed to report her daughter’s disappearance and have herself declared the children’s guardian. But being a veteran of the system, she also knew that it could take weeks if not months for everything to get straightened out. During that time it was possible that the children would be taken away from her by social services. And when it was all finally sorted out she would just end up receiving the exact same payment her daughter had been getting in the first place. In her mind it was simpler to not say anything and just continue caring for her grandkids. Eventually however the system realized its mistake and she was arrested for fraud. She hadn’t seen her grandchildren since the police had taken her into custody, and with no other family she feared that they had been separated and thrust into the unsympathetic maze of the foster care system.
In spite of her worries, Mary bounced back quickly. She turned out to have a heart as big as she was and she spent most of the trip helping others who were struggling through their own bouts of depression. She seemed to thrive on taking care of others and as long as there was someone else to look after Mary was able to cope. She quickly earned the nickname ‘Momma Mary’ among the other prisoners.
Others found their own ways to cope. Bobby Dare focused on coming up with a way to escape. He quickly decided that a group of us should attack the crewmen who brought our food and make a break for it. He had several of the others ready to act with him until I was able to talk them out of it. I had actually considered a similar plan myself but decided against it when I saw how one crewman always remained outside in the passageway whenever they brought our food. As long as we were wearing obedience collars any direct action against our captors was foolish.
While he grudgingly came to agree with us that direct action against the pirates was hopeless, Bobby still needed something to do. He was a bundle of energy and he couldn’t stand being cooped up. Before his arrest Bobby had spent all his time following summer around the world in search of the perfect wave. Haven’s twin moons gave the planet some of the best surfing anywhere. A sizable trust fund established by his parents had allowed him to live free of any personal responsibilities. An ounce of marijuana found in his luggage, however, had cut short his endless summer. Convicted of possessing a controlled substance with intent to distribute (he swore it was only his personal stash), he was given a thirty year sentence. That sentence was a crushing blow to the free spirited surfer.
Since he couldn’t move against the pirate crew directly, Bobby burned off his excess energy by making forays across the ceiling of the cargo bay. It was fascinating to watch him swing gracefully among the girders and pipes. He was a natural athlete. Unfortunately, the results of his explorations were always the same. Without tools there was nothing up there he could get into, yet day after day he would climb to the overhead and continue his search.
Lucky seemed to spend the time getting to know everyone. He had a naturally outgoing personality and in spite of our situation he managed to find things to laugh about. His good-natured guffaw could be heard throughout the day as he helped lift the spirits of those who were beginning to lose hope. Within a couple of days he was on a first name basis with everyone. He even managed to get Ian to open up a bit and talk about himself. He learned that our soft-spoken giant had been court-marshaled for striking an officer. Ian refused to give any details of the incident except to say: “The guy was an asshole.”
Alex spent most of the time exercising. She quickly developed a daily routine of calisthenics that she would perform until she was dripping with sweat. Others joined in from time to time but she was the only one to maintain a consistent regimen. I even joined her for a few sessions myself. Although I could do most of the exercises with her I didn’t have anywhere near her stamina. She was like a machine, banging out her repetitions with military precision.
When she wasn’t exercising Alex was circulating among the other prisoners. She had a commanding presence and when she chose to use it she could get people to tell her things about themselves. Every ‘evening’ we would talk about what she had learned. She seemed to think it was important to know as much as we could about our fellow prisoners and insisted on reporting everything she learned to me.
For myself all I could think about was how we were trapped and helpless and would soon be sold into slavery. The idea of being someone’s property was abhorrent to me and the injustice of our situation frustrated me because I was completely powerless to do anything about it. The future looked black, as black as the void of my memory.
For most of the trip I kept to myself. At first Alex tried to draw me out, engaging me in conversation, proposing plans to fight our captors, or anything else to get me to talk. I listened politely and offered a few comments or suggestions of my own, but I was just going through the motions and she knew it. After a while she left me alone.
It was shortly after we had been given our sixth meal that we were visited by the captain. Flanked by several of his crew as bodyguards, the pirate leader strutted into the bay and looked us over. He was dressed in a flamboyant collection of expensive but tasteless clothes and jewelry that was meant to show off his wealth but only made him look foolish. He introduced himself as ‘Captain Mercurio Cross’, speaking as if that name was supposed to mean something to us. None of the
others reacted so for once I didn’t feel alone in my ignorance. I suspected his renown was more in his own imagination than anywhere else. Undaunted, the captain continued with his announcement. He told us that the ship would be landing shortly and we were to be sold. Although we had expected as much, his announcement generated scattered whimpering and moaning. Cross shouted for silence and a couple of his men waded into the prisoners and used their fists to enforce his order. Once everyone was silent he told us that our former lives were over. We were now slaves and we had better get used to the idea.
Then his voice softened and he told us that we were actually fortunate. He was taking us to the plantation of someone called Fernando Rabine. He said that Rabine was quite wealthy and that we would have good lives there. However, if for some reason any of us were not selected by Rabine, the ship would be making a second stop. This second stop would be at the base camp of Ahmed Kahn and he would buy anyone Cross brought to him. Kahn ran an asteroid mining operation that specialized in radioactives. It was dangerous, back breaking work. Although Kahn paid less for his slaves than Rabine, he was a regular customer because he constantly needed to replace his workforce. Living and working around radioactive ores eventually caught up with his slaves. Life expectancy there was only a few years.
Captain Cross left us with one warning. It was coming into harvest season on Rabine’s plantation and he needed more workers. With luck he would take all of us. But he didn’t tolerate disobedience. If we behaved ourselves we would end up with Rabine. If not, we had only Ahmed Kahn’s radioactive mines to look forward to.