by Joe Vasicek
Fortunately, she’d planned for that. In her right hand, she carried a small crystal bowl that she’d taken from her quarters. She pressed it tight against her chest and crouched behind a nearby set of drapes, her heart racing.
“Servant!” she called out. “Servant!”
She waited in silence in the shadow of the drapes. The seconds dragged by, and the crystal bowl grew slick with the sweat of her hand. Why hadn’t the servant come yet? Nearly a minute had passed, and yet—
The footsteps in the darkness were soft, yet swift. Stella caught her breath and stole a peek down the hall. Sure enough, one of the eunuchs was approaching—his white shirt stood out in the faint blue glow of the night-lights that ran along the floor. Only a few more moments and he’d pass her.
Please go down quietly, Stella inwardly pleaded. She didn’t know what she’d do if the servant cried out when she hit him—or worse, if the blow actually killed him.
He was close enough now that she could see his sandaled feet in the soft blue light. They were thin and bony. Her hands trembled and her feet felt rooted to the spot, but she lifted the bowl above her head, readying herself for the strike.
Steady, steady—NOW!
A sudden burst of adrenaline surged through her as she sprung into action. In an instant, she leaped from her hiding place and swung downward with all her might.
It was over before the eunuch had time to react. The glass bowl thudded against the back of the servant’s head and shattered. He grunted and collapsed; Stella fell on top of him.
She quickly sat up and looked at the man. He lay facedown, arms by his side—he’d made no attempt to stop his fall.
Please be all right, Stella thought desperately to herself, checking his pulse with her fingers. I didn’t want to kill you. Please don’t be dead.
His pulse was strong; he wasn’t dead, only knocked out—exactly as Stella had wanted. She almost sighed in relief, but caught herself in time. She’d made too much noise as it was.
The bathroom lay between the common room and the elevator. Stella expected the place to be empty at this hour, and she wasn’t disappointed. The toilets were only separated by thin cloth hangings, but so long as she hid the unconscious servant in the last stall, she should be safe, assuming he didn’t wake up.
The bead curtains clattered as she entered the room, but that couldn’t be helped. As the automatic lights switched on, she passed swiftly inside, hoping that no one would see her drag the servant to the end of the room. His body was heavier than she’d expected, and his sandals made a rough scraping noise on the tile floor, but fear and adrenaline kept her moving.
In a few seconds she was safe in the stall. Working quickly, she stripped the servant of his white smock and trousers, leaving him in his underwear.
Without wasting any more time, she slipped out of her nightgown and tore three strips from it, long and narrow. Ignoring her nakedness, she flipped the unconscious servant on his stomach and tightly bound his hands and feet, using the third strip to gag him. She then tore a wider strip from the remains of her dress and wrapped it tightly against her chest, flattening her breasts. Only then did she don the servant’s clothes and step out from the stall.
She took a moment to check her work in the mirror. The smock was a bit large for her, but it was good enough; if anything, the bagginess would only aid in disguising her figure. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she could easily pass for a servant.
She checked the shirt’s inside chest pocket. Sure enough, the card was there.
The elevator ride passed in a blur. Her heart raced in her chest, and the sweat on the back of her neck quickly grew cold. She leaned against the wall of the car for support and prayed that the ruse would work.
Sure enough, a pair of guards were standing watch outside the door. They perked up as she stepped out, but she gave them a nod and continued through to the corridor, keeping her head carefully turned so that they wouldn’t see her eyes.
Please, God—please.
It worked. Behind her, the soldiers grunted and returned to their posts.
Excitement flooded through her, and it was all she could do to keep from running. Of course, that was the one thing she couldn’t do. Here on the main level, the lights were as bright as at any time; it would only take one person peeking around the corner to spot her.
Fortunately, she had a good idea where the main hangar would be. The ship was clearly Belarian, and their passenger liners all followed a similar design.
The upper decks could not have been more different than the concubines’ quarters. Here, Stella saw no decorations, no silks or tassels or shaggy carpets—only cold tile floors and off-white walls. The corridor was lit with harsh fluorescent lighting, and the air was noticeably cooler. Stella shivered and hugged her chest to shield herself from the cold.
The worst, though, was the feeling that someone was watching her.
Thankfully, she made it to the end without any incident. The corridor teed at this point, with a particularly large elevator door on the opposite wall. Stella was willing to bet that if she took it down, it would lead her straight to the hangar bay floor.
Both sides were clear. Stella stepped forward and keyed the access pad; the elevator door hissed open.
“Yah!” someone shouted off to her right. A bolt of fear shot through her, bolting her to the spot. For an instant, she thought of running, but realized she had nowhere to run. Instead, she leaped inside the elevator and slammed her thumb against the lowest button. Out in the corridor, she saw a man running towards her, a gun in his hand. Soldiers followed close behind him.
The door closed just in time. Her stomach flipped as the elevator quickly dropped a level, but at least she had time to catch her breath.
As soon as the doors reopened, Stella bolted out at a dead run. She didn’t have much time—she had to find a hiding place. Fortunately, the large, high-ceilinged room was full of crates and boxes. Several unloading cranes dangled from the ceiling, and the wall on one side was a giant door—a hangar door.
Her heart leaped in her chest. This was a freight hanger—she was in the right place. She didn’t see any shuttles, but with luck, they weren’t too far away.
Behind her, she heard the elevator doors hiss shut. In only a few seconds, she knew, the soldiers would be after her. She ran frantically down a long row of shipping crates and slipped into a narrow crack just as the doors hissed open again.
Shouting and footsteps echoed throughout the large room. Her heart pounding, Stella scooted to the wall at the end of the crack. There was just enough space behind the pile on her left for her to hide, if she sucked in her stomach and squeezed.
She got there not a moment too soon. The soldiers quickly filled the hangar, searching for her. The noise of their shouting and footsteps echoed off of the walls.
Stella’s legs went numb, and her breath came in short gasps. She didn’t know how long she could hold out, but she forced herself to remain calm and wait.
The shouting came steadily closer. She closed her eyes.
Without warning, a gunshot ricocheted off the wall next to her, filling the narrow space with terrible noise. She screamed and covered her head. Shouts sounded above her, and the face of one of the soldiers peeked over the top of the pile of crates to stare down triumphantly at her. Stella’s muscles turned to water, and she watched in horror as he lifted his gun.
He didn’t shoot her, though—only shouted and motioned for her to come out. For several seconds, she was too frightened to move, but the harshness of his voice soon compelled her forward.
How did they find me? she wondered, making her way inch by inch through the narrow space. More than a dozen soldiers waited for her on the other side.
As she neared the opening between crates, a hand seized her roughly by the arm and pulled her out. As she spilled onto the floor, something prodded her in the stomach and an electric shock surged through her body. She cried out in pain as her legs and arms spasmed
uncontrollably.
“What are you doing? Stop!” Another shock hit her in the shoulder, filling her arms and chest with pain. She tried to resist, but her body was unresponsive.
Her vision blurred, and time slowed down as the pain overwhelmed her. One of the soldiers reached down and took her by the hair. Her eyes widened in panic as he stared hungrily at her.
Before he pulled her up, however, she heard the sound of a familiar voice. The soldiers stopped and looked away, moving aside to let the newcomer through.
It was Narju.
He was talking with the soldiers—no, arguing was the better word. They didn’t seem too happy to see him, and glanced from him to her with undisguised malice. Still, after several minutes of deliberation, they turned and left the room. The sound of their footsteps gradually died away, until the hiss of the elevator doors marked their exit.
“How do you feel, Sholpan?” Narju asked, kneeling by her side. “Did they hurt you much?”
Too exasperated to speak, Stella sat up and broke down into tears.
“Here, let me help you.” He took her by the waist and supported her as she rose to her feet. Her legs gave way, but he caught her before she fell. She wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to face him.
“Why did you come after me?” she asked. “How did you know I was here?”
“I came because I am your servant,” he told her. “As for finding you, it was not difficult, considering the tracking chip implanted in your ankle.”
Stella froze and looked down at her ankle, where the doctor had made the incision. So that’s what that was, she thought to herself in dismay.
“All of us have one,” Narju said, lifting his pant leg to show a similar scar on his foot. “It allows the Hameji to monitor us. The moment you left the concubines’ quarters, they knew you were trying to escape.”
“What can I do, then?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I need to get out of here, Narju. I can’t stay in this place.”
“I’m sorry, mistress,” he said softly. “The tracking chips are triggered to sound an alarm if tampered with or removed. I’m afraid you cannot escape.”
“Don’t you understand?” she yelled, her voice becoming frantic. “Don’t you have any idea what they’re going to do to me? They’re going to rape me, Narju—not just once or twice, but night after night for the rest of my life!”
“Sholpan,” he said, looking her gently in the eye. “Please, be calm.”
Stella wanted to scream and run away, even if it brought the soldiers down on her again. Something about Narju calmed her, though. She stayed where she was.
“You are a good girl,” he said. “I do not want to see you hurt. I understand what you are going through, though you may not believe me.”
“Oh you do, do you?”
“Yes, I do,” he said, his face falling. “I was once a prisoner as yourself, many long years ago. The Hameji tortured me for several months before they took away my manhood, and I know I am destined to spend the rest of my life as their slave.”
Stella felt a pang of regret for her snide comment. “I’m sorry.”
“No apology is necessary. Please believe me when I tell you I mean you no harm.”
“I believe you,” she whispered.
“Then listen to me, Sholpan. You must forget about your home. Forget your past life. Leave it behind you.”
“No,” Stella said, shaking her head. “I can’t.”
“Your hope is false, Sholpan—it will only destroy you. Even if you managed to escape, the Hameji would retaliate by slaughtering all those whom you love. If you truly love them, leave them.”
“I can’t,” she repeated, her whole body growing tense. She tried to hold back the tears, but they could not be stopped. Deep down, she knew that Narju was right.
He smiled mournfully at her and took her gently by the wrist. “Come, Sholpan” he said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 7
James floated up through the narrow hatchway and pulled himself into the Catriona’s command chair. The bridge was dark and silent, and the slightly stuffy air was cold enough to give him chills. Even though space on the ship was tight, James felt more alone than he ever had in his young life. He tried not to let that bother him as he started powering up the Catriona’s systems.
It’s not stealing if it rightfully belongs to you, James told himself. It’s not my fault Dad refused to give me my inheritance. As for the lie to his mother, though, he had no excuse for that.
The lights and indicators on the boards came to life, splashing faint, glowing light across the consoles and keyboards. He pulled the seat restraints across his chest, strapping his weightless body to the chair. As the ship cycled through its system checks, he transmitted his falsified manifest and flight plans to the local port authority.
The small interstellar passenger shuttle had once belonged to the Colony’s diplomatic corps, in the early days of the station’s independence. The Patrician had long since upgraded the government fleet, selling off the obsolete craft. Even though the Catriona had a passenger capacity of five, she was significantly smaller than the Llewellyn, with narrower corridors and tighter cabins. Cabinets lined every available wall, while pipes ran along the ceiling. The ship was functional, but not particularly pretty. She was equipped with a long-range jump drive, though, and that was all that mattered to James.
Once out of the Karduna system, he would be safe from the Hameji. The distances between stars were so vast, and his ship so small, that they would never find him. In only a matter of days, he would cross into Gaian-controlled space and arrive at the nearest relay station along the Karduna-Gaia Nova starlane. Doubtless that was where all the refugees had fled—and where he would find Ben and Stella if they had escaped. But if they hadn’t…
As the systems came to life around him, James glanced out the window at the Hameji cruiser parked alongside the Colony. It appeared so deceptively peaceful, like an interstellar passenger liner from some exotic far-off location. James knew the truth, though—he knew it all too well. He had not forgotten Kardunash IV, shrouded in gray as the mass accelerators had slagged the world into oblivion. He vividly remembered the orange streaks of the falling asteroids as they smashed into the surface. Billions of lives, snuffed out within seconds—and the monsters responsible for the atrocity now sat in that very cruiser, their guns pointed at his home.
And if Ben and Stella were prisoners of the Hameji, held in some cruiser like that one, he would break them out. Not by himself, of course, but with whatever help he could find. The Catriona wasn’t too pretty, but he knew she’d fetch a good price on the black market. With that money, he could hire a band of mercenaries. He didn’t know how, but that didn’t matter. If it would save Ben and Stella, he’d find a way.
The on-board computer finished with the system checks. A message flashed across the comm screen, indicating that the port authority had cleared him for departure. The instrument boards blinked and hummed, while the low rumble of the ship’s reactor sent small vibrations through James’s seat. In only a few minutes, the Catriona’s jump drive would be charged enough to take him past Karduna’s orbital plane and into deep space.
As the Catriona finished warming up, James hesitated to take the controls. He’d never gone against his father like this before. What if he couldn’t find any mercenaries willing to take on the job? What if they stole his ship and left him stranded—or worse, sold him into slavery? What if he failed?
No, he told himself. Now’s not the time to freeze up. Biting his lip, he gripped the piloting stick in his hand and flipped the switch to release the docking gear. The distant scraping sound of metal on metal came through the walls, followed by silence. He engaged the engines, and felt the acceleration press his body against the chair as he pulled away from home, heading into starry void.
James swallowed hard as an image of his mother came to mind. His imagination twisted her face into the sadness that would no doubt overwhelm her when she h
eard that her last surviving son had run away. He choked back tears and tried to put the image out of his mind, but found that he couldn’t.
He glanced down at his instruments. The status bar for the jump engines was green. Fingers moving mechanically, he set his target coordinates for the first jump and reached for the switch that would engage the drive. His hand trembled as it hovered over the switch.
You don’t have to do this, his father’s voice came to him. You can still come back. It’s not too late.
Please, James, his mother said, tears in her eyes, please don’t leave us. You’re all we have left.
James’s heart pounded loudly in his chest, and he clenched his hand into a fist. For an unsteady moment, he considered aborting the jump and returning home.
Then, he imagined he heard a new voice in his head. I love you, James! It was his sister, Stella. He remembered the way her hair had bobbed as she ran down the corridor of the Llewellyn, as if she were a little girl again on another family trip to Kardunash IV. Ben was there, too, smiling the way he used to before he had left home for his apprenticeship—before he had grown up and started to act too mature or important to spend time with his little brother. They had been so close back then, before Ben had left home for the stars.
James took a deep breath and tried to stop his shoulders from shaking. Tears streaked down his cheeks, but he couldn’t remember when or how they’d gotten there. All he knew was that if he turned around and stayed, he would never see his brother and sister again. Never.
Before any more doubts rose into his mind, he reached out with his index finger and flipped the switch.
A low hum came through the bulkheads, rising quickly in pitch and intensity. It reached a climax, and James felt as if he were shrinking, or perhaps as if the ship were growing larger. His stomach flipped inside out, and the floor fell out from underneath him. He gasped, and for an infinitesimal fraction of a second, everything went black—or perhaps blinding white, James couldn’t tell.