Priest and Pariahs

by J. Alan Veerkamp

  Priest could have made peace with the fact if the source of his poverty wasn’t stuck in the cell with him.

  Curled on his bunk across the room in silence, Costa had yet to speak a word since the plexiwall slid shut. Not that Priest was complaining. Right now, Costa’s voice was the last thing he wanted to hear as he bided his time.

  Harsh creases ran under Costa’s eyes and split his brow. The beds weren’t the most comfortable, and Costa couldn’t lie still. Small movements had become more prominent over the last few hours. How much worse were they likely to get?

  “You okay?”

  Costa's disdainful glare drew a menacing arc in Priest’s direction. “I’ll be fine. My meds are back in my hotel.”

  “You sick?”

  “I said I’ll be fine. You should learn to mind your own business.”

  Priest rolled over to face the bunk above him. “You’re looking a little rough, that’s all. Just trying to be nice. Sorry I asked.”

  “I know what your idea of nice is.”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “I know it only takes a minute’s chat with you to know you’re an oversexed pig. Honestly, what kind of a desperate wanker uses a sad pickup line like that? How often has that really worked for you in the past?”

  Priest shrugged as he rolled to the cot’s edge and studied the floor. Looking back, he knew that kind of desperate effort was rewarded about one in every ten attempts. But Costa was so attractive, and he was giving him the signs telling him he was keen. One in ten. In his excitement, he spoke first, hoped for the best, and it all went to hell. It wasn’t the first time his grand schemes had blown up in his face. As chaffed as he was by the situation and Costa’s attitude, he wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

  “I was in a good mood and wanted to have a good time. I thought you were a sure thing. Sorry you’re such a frigid bitch.”

  “I’m a far cry from frigid. I just had no intention of being used by you as a cum bucket. Now, thanks to you, I’ve missed my departure to Omoikane.”

  Shifting off his bed, Priest stalked across the room, casting a shadow over the smaller man. “You can get all high and condescending if you want, but you could have just said no. I would have walked away. You weren’t about to get ass-raped or anything. Instead, you had to go all psychotic and now we’re in jail. I didn’t slap you or start raging out.” He pointed an angry finger scant centimeters from Costa’s face. “That was all you. So stop blaming me because you picked a fight over being offended.”

  Costa’s scathing gaze softened as Priest returned to his bed, sat on the edge, and rested his arms on his knees. Averting his eyes, Costa looked properly chastised.

  “The authorities were a little quick to arrive to collect us both. What did you do?”

  Priest shrugged. “I’m guessing the owner was pissed that I won a bunch of credits off him in a poker game. He was probably looking for an excuse to fuck with me and I know he has a few friends on the force. Thanks for giving him the opening. Now I’m broke because you can’t take being asked out.”

  Costa sighed as he rocked himself into to a seated position. “Your proposal was vile and degrading. But you’re right. I’m a touch sensitive these days. Perhaps I did overreact a little.”

  Now that his petulance was under control, Priest could admire Costa’s beauty again. Legs crossed under, his slender frame’s natural grace made the institutional mattress look luxurious. He was elegant and strangely fascinating. Too bad all he could count on was the uneasy truce Costa appeared to offer.

  “I’m betting that’s the closest thing to an apology I’m gonna get.”

  “Perhaps you’re not a complete idiot after all.”

  “What was making you so touchy, anyways?”

  After an extended pause, silence and a blank stare were Costa’s only responses. Was he pissed off? Was he scared? Priest couldn’t read him. If the pretty man wanted to keep secrets, it was fine. He was as entitled as anyone. But it rubbed like sandpaper to be snubbed when they were finally making a bit of polite conversation.

  Priest huffed. “Okay then, what do we do now?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t have much experience with this sort of thing.”

  Priest threw his hands upward in defeat. “Unless someone bails us out, we sit in here for another two days. Do you know anyone?”

  “No. I just migrated from Earth alone. Surely you know people?”

  “No one I want to know I’m in here.” If he could keep the crew from finding out about this whole mess, it would be a miracle. Two days in holding wouldn’t be his favorite way to spend his leave, but standard procedure would be to release a man in holding in time to catch his departing ship if he was part of the crew. It would get you off-planet with a minimum chance of creating more trouble. Paying passengers were screwed. It would be a close call, but the crew wouldn’t have to find out about this.

  Costa rubbed his temple as he hissed. “Then I suppose we sit here.”

  “I have an idea how we can pass the time.” A leering grin with an arched brow accompanied his remark. Costa’s eyes narrowed, a snarling frown marring his youthful features. There was no question reading his disgust.

  “Don’t be a twat, Priest.”

  Priest smirked. “Just thought I’d ask.”

  The pair sat in relative quiet for the next several hours, making small bits of conversation stretch out as best they could. Costa’s headache grew progressively worse, and small tremors became visible in his hands.

  “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”

  “I don’t need bloody medical assistance.”

  Priest raised his hands in defense. “All right. Just checking.”

  Attempts at learning about Costa’s past were also met with a barrier of refusal. Every question was answered with cold stares, silence, or brutal insults. If he continued being so resistant to Priest’s curiosities, this would be a long couple of days.

  “I wondered where my pilot ran off to this time.”

  Priest winced without even facing the voice from the corridor.

  Costa swiveled around to the edge of the bed and stood, smoothing his clothes. “You must be Captain Danverse.”

  Priest was puzzled. Costa hadn’t even heard of the Santa Claus or its itinerary before they wound up in this cell.

  Danverse's arms crossed over his broad chest, his presence oozed authority, dwarfing the uniformed officer standing watch behind him. “I am. You must be Mr. McQuillen. I see you’ve met my wayward child.”

  “Hey, Captain.” Priest couldn’t hide the sheepish tone as he avoided the captain’s eyes. Danverse might have been incensed at finding him in a cell—again—but it was hard to tell. He always held a minor annoyance with the world.

  Costa sighed. “Yes, it appears that we’ve crossed paths.”

  “Is this something I need to be worried about during the trip? I don’t like conflicts on board.” Brow raised, Danverse held his head at a mild angle.

  “No, Captain. The whole issue has been resolved.”

  “Conflicts on board? What are you both talking about?” Priest looked back and forth between them.

  “Mr. McQuillen booked passage to Omoikane on the Santa Claus and let me know where to find you.”

  Now Priest was beyond confused. “How could he—”

  Costa interrupted. “Is everything in order so we can leave?”

  Danverse nodded. “Just about. I need to sign off on your releases. You’ll be in my custody as long as you remain on planet. They said both of your fines are completed, so we can pick up your effects and head out. We’ll be going back to the ship until we’re ready to launch.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your help and understanding.”

  “Your security check came up clean with your application. I figured it was just a misunderstanding with my pilot.” Danverse’s laser-like gaze burned over to Priest. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
r />   Priest cringed and lowered his head like the time his grandmother had caught him with porn. “Sorry, Captain.”

  “Get yourself sorted, Priest. We’ll talk about this later when I decide what to do with you.”

  A wave of dread came over Priest as the guard escorted Danverse back down the hallway. Once upon a time, breaking the captain’s rules involved restraints and physical discipline. Keeping his men in line usually ended with the offending crewman receiving a brutal fuck from the superior officer. Danverse got off on corporal punishment.

  It wasn’t a surprise to any of the crew. Their employment contracts stated all discipline was under the captain’s discretion. At least until Mac arrived on board.

  And thank the gods he did. Once Mac and Danverse became involved, all the aspects to law and order on the Santa Claus involving whips, chains, and deviant sex vanished. The two of them were an exclusive couple now, and perhaps he saved those impulses for the head tech, but it didn’t mean Danverse had gone soft. He still knew how to maintain order.

  Priest had trouble picturing Mac as a willing submissive. The idea of him bound and whipped during sex wasn’t the image that came to his mind. But Priest shouldn’t be shocked. Mac wouldn’t be the first man in his life to surprise him with his appetites.

  Once he made sure the captain was out of earshot, Priest grabbed Costa by the arm. “What’s going on? How did you book flight when you’ve been stuck in here with me since we got bounced?”

  Even with the visible strain around his eyes, Costa’s smile was almost arrogant. “I’m very resourceful.”

  Chapter Three

  “THIS WILL BE your quarters as long as you’re on board,” Danverse said.

  Costa scanned the spartan room. The metal walls were plain and unadorned, but he could hardly expect more from what was basically a motel room. Once upon a time, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this, but so much had changed over the years. The Santa Claus was functional and safe, which was a far cry from some of the questionable shelters he’d found himself in prior to the chance to migrate.

  This would have to do. He had little choice.

  “Thank you for your help, Captain. Allowing us to stop for a decent meal after calling in at my hotel was particularly appreciated. The Station Authority’s menu was inedible.” Costa rolled one piece of luggage into the room and dropped a shoulder bag next to it in the middle of the floor. It would be nicer if there was so much as a rug in this place.

  “You’ll be staying on the ship until we launch. Then you’re free to do what you want. I don’t want any more trouble.”

  “Nor do I.” Costa let out an exhausted sigh as he examined the minimal amenities. “It’s not the most luxurious I’ve ever been in, but the Santa Claus appears to be a reliable ship.”

  Danverse’s spine straightened. “Maybe not the prettiest, but he’s a sturdy vessel and where we make our home.”

  “He? It was always my understanding that, out of tradition, all ships were referred to as ‘she.’”

  “This is a non-hetero crew. The ship’s AI, Mrs. Claus, is the only female I have on board.”

  A small grin curled Costa’s mouth. “I see.”

  The bed was a good size for his petite frame, with a few shelves over the generic desk and chair. Storage compartments were visible in multiple locations, and the walls were split by the light panel illuminating the room. It was a functional, if not glamorous, method of travel.

  “It’ll be a while before we hit Omoikane. It takes about seven weeks to get to Centauri Gamma with a two-day stopover and another six weeks after that. Long way to get where you’re going.”

  Costa shrugged as he critiqued the nightstand fixed to the wall. “It wasn’t my original plan, but it’s taken me this long to be able to migrate away from Earth. A few more weeks won’t make a great deal of difference.”

  “You only have a few bags. Traveling awfully light for someone relocating across the universe. Do you have any family back on Earth?”

  He paused for a moment and turned to the captain, maintaining his veneer. “They’ve been gone for some time now.”

  Was that a hint of compassion he noticed in the captain’s eye? It was difficult to place for sure. Danverse watched his every move since they were released from the Station Authority, scrutinizing and evaluating. Costa would have been offended, but was more impressed the captain was being so thorough. The man demanded respect and given Priest’s reaction to Danverse arriving at the cell, Costa imagined he was used to receiving it.

  “So, do you want to tell me what happened with you and Priest?”

  “There’s very little to tell.” Costa cringed and ran his fingertips across his forehead. “I really feel quite stupid. Priest rubbed me the wrong way and I overreacted. I didn’t mind him chatting me up. I wasn’t planning on shagging him. After an attempt at being pulled by an adolescent child earlier, the conversation was refreshing. I just hadn’t anticipated his rude proposition. It set me off.”

  Danverse grinned, paired with a mild snort. “Priest has a gift for that. A lot of the men on this crew are like that when we have newbies on board. One look at you and you’re going to get a lot of attention. They don’t mean any harm, but the libidos on this ship can run a bit racy at times. I need to know if there’s a chance there’ll be a repeat of this.”

  “He simply said the wrong thing at the wrong time. It won’t happen again.”

  “That’s fair. Make no mistake, though. Once we take off, I’m in charge. We have a nice little extended family on the Santa Claus. We appreciate visitors. They make some of our trips real interesting, but I don’t tolerate dissension in the ranks. Living in space has its challenges, but we love it. This voyage will be as pleasant as you make it.”

  “I’m just looking for a little peace and quiet during my travels.”

  The captain gave a satisfied nod. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Don’t tell him I said so, but try not to be too hard on him. He was only defending himself.”

  “I’ll consider it. Priest is a good guy, but needs direction. His mischievous streak turns him into a scam artist if he’s not reined in. Priest loves being on the Santa Claus, but like everyone else, he has to play by our rules for the safety of everyone on board. He needs the reminder from time to time.”

  “I see.” A fresh surge of pain crushed Costa’s eyes closed as he pressed the heel of his palm into the crease of his brow.

  Danverse’s gruff voice became as kind as his nature likely allowed. “Are you all right? I didn’t want to say anything until we were in private. You look like you’ve been running a little harsh since before I saw you in the station. Dr. Bosch takes good care of all of us. He’s more than happy to see passengers in sick bay. Recruiting him was one of the best things I’ve ever done.”

  “Thank you, Captain, but I will be fine.” The pain had been rumbling for days, but Costa pushed it aside and put on a smile. “It’s late and it’s been a very tiring day. I just need a proper lie down to rid myself of this migraine. The beds in the cell belonged in a condemned hostel.”

  Danverse didn't seem convinced, but conceded. “All right, if you’re sure. Contact us if you need anything. Breakfast service will be at 08:00 hours. A lot of the men stayed on the ship on this port. You’ll get a chance to meet a few come morning.”

  Costa gave a gesture of thanks. “I’ll be sure to set myself a wakeup com for the morning. Cheers.”

  The doors slid shut with the captain on the other side and only then did Costa begin to slump, showing the wear of the last few days. As if waking from hyper-sleep wasn’t stressful enough, finding himself in holding for a pub brawl wasn’t improving his first days in the planetary cluster.

  Holding a brave face for the captain had been a trial. The pain daggering through his skull was growing worse with each passing hour. There was too much inside to contain without help. He couldn’t have waited much longer for Danverse’s exit.

  Staggering,
he fell to his knees in front of the larger piece of luggage. He cursed as he struggled to unfasten the catch and tear the bag open. Personal effects spilled onto the floor as he rummaged through the contents with shaking hands. Where was it? He knew it was in this case. It had to be here. He was nearly in a panic when he felt the object and wrenched it into the open air.

  The small black cylinder fit easily into his slender palm and he sighed in relief. Wasting no time, he tipped his head back and pressed the button, dispensing two drops on his tongue. A rush of ecstasy pushed the thorns out from behind his eyes and the world around him became unimportant and tolerable. The noise diminished into a subtle din.

  “Oh yes…yes, yes, yes,” were the only words slurring from his lips as he lay down on the floor in the middle of his quarters, tiny giggles bubbling forth as he let the drug take effect.

  ONE BY ONE, all sets of eyes turned in Arbor’s direction as he entered the Mess Hall. It was intense enough he wished he’d taken Mac up on his offer to eat with him and the captain a little later. He refused, wanting to get an early start and make a good impression. With the curiosity buffeting him in every direction, being a third wheel now felt like the better option.

  Too late to turn back, Arbor gripped the strap on his shoulder bag, held his head high, and strode into the room. He tried not to cringe at being on display as he surveyed the room to get his bearings.

  Rows of tables in a tight grid formation were randomly occupied by eating crewmen. From what he’d been told, the population was lighter than normal. About half the men stayed on board during this docking. A lot of the crew had served in the Centauri Civil War and had little interest in this particular planet or its space stations.

  A serving rack with trays and silverware sat to one side of the food service line. Getting a tray was simple enough—the stack was within reach—but the utensils were at a bit of a distance. Determined not to look a fool, Arbor stretched to his limit and retrieved his cutlery. He knew others were watching, but he stamped down the impending swell of humiliation even as it heated his cheeks.