by Michael Karr
Tanks answered it by striking the man in the chest.
“You are slaves,” he growled. “You do not ask questions.”
“Now, my men will see that you have some clothes fitting your new rank. Then you will eat. You’ll eat well enough on my ship. But don’t go thinking it’s out of kindness. I’d starve ya all until your skin hung from your bones like melted candle wax if it would mean a higher premium at the slave auctions. Want to defy me by not eating? I repeat my warning. You don’t want to know what they do with half-starved slaves.”
Tanks disappeared through a portal, and Skylar found himself being prodded to follow in the same direction. As the smugglers herded the captives out of the cargo hold, Skylar wondered if he were dreaming. How could this be real? Slaves? He’d never heard of the Tors keeping slaves. He tried to imagine what they did with their slaves but quickly banished the thought. It was too grim for him to even consider.
What did the smugglers truly have in mind for them? That was the important question at hand. And did they have any possibility of escape?
Over the next few days, both those questions were answered for him. The smugglers kept them busy from morning until late into the night. When Skylar and the other captives weren’t forced to scrub the floors of the ship by hand, they were made to exercise until they collapsed from exhaustion. A few swift kicks to their ribs, however, always ensured they got up again and kept going until the smugglers grew tired of watching them.
Anything the captives tried to do—without permission from the smugglers—earned them a blow to the ribs or kidneys. Talking without being asked? Blow to the ribs. Standing out of line? Blow to the ribs. Eating too little? Blow to the rib. Looking at another captive? Blow to the ribs. It seemed to Skylar that there was no end to the ways you could earn a beating. The smugglers must have made their rules on the spot, as it suited their mood.
Slem, the smuggler who had nearly broken all of Skylar’s ribs with his kicking, turned out to be Tanks’ right-hand man. Next to Tanks, he was also the cruelest of them all.
Skylar soon gave up all hope of escape. Constant exhaustion kept him from caring what became of him; besides the fact that he never could speak with Endrick or Grüny. They might have managed a whispered conversation in the middle of the night, as they were locked in the brig, but sleep always overtook them as soon as they hit the floor.
Skylar knew well what the smugglers were doing. By constantly beating them and keeping them in a state of fatigue, they weakened their will to fight. Skylar also knew that it was working.
On the fourth or fifth night—Skylar had lost track—a sound managed to startle him from sleep. Too tired to care what it was, he rolled over onto his side and would have instantly fallen asleep again had he not heard it again. This time he opened his eyes a little wider and tilted his head. Had one of the other captives said something? Probably someone talking in their sleep. He let his eyes fall. Again, he heard the sound.
His eyelids shot back open.
He started to speak, but a hand stifled his voice. Then a voice urgently whispered in his ear.
“Don’t make a sound or they’ll catch both of us.”
Thirteen
The voice made Skylar’s heart stop.
Could it be?
The hand drew back from his mouth, and the voice whispered again.
“The guard’s asleep. But he could wake at any moment. We’ve got to wake the others without rousing him.”
Skylar heard the words without comprehending them. All he could think about was the person speaking them. Without responding, he propped himself on one elbow and turned to face the dark figure crouched beside him in the cell. A pair of familiar eyes gazed at him.
How could it be?
“Kendyl? Is that—”
Again, her hand stopped his mouth.
Kendyl brought her lips next to his ear again. The warm breath from her mouth caressed his cheek as she spoke.
“Yes, it’s me,” she whispered. “But you’ve got to keep quiet. We can talk later—if they don’t catch us. Now help me wake up Endrick and Grüny. We need their help to take out the guard.”
Skylar nodded his head. Realization of the danger she was in awoke him to the urgency of the situation. Though he marveled at her presence and wondered if he was hallucinating, he could not risk taking the time to quiz her.
Slowly, Skylar moved onto all fours, taking care to make as little noise as possible. Even the rustle of his clothing made him fear he would wake the guard. He crawled his way over to Grüny, meticulously choosing where to place his hands and knees as he went. The last thing he needed was to wake up one of the other captives by tripping over them in the dark. He chose Grüny as his victim because he saw that Kendyl was already making her way to Endrick. A smart choice. Between the two companions, Grüny was the most likely to cause a stir at seeing Kendyl again.
Grüny slept with his mouth open wide, a faint snore emitting from it. So faint and irregular that it sounded like Grüny stopped breathing each time he exhaled.
Skylar pondered for a moment the best way to wake him.
Could he do it without startling Grüny? The sharp-tongued captain of the Luna might let out a few curses before Skylar could get him to calm down. Skylar could muffle those curses with his hand, but would it be enough to keep from waking the guard—or any of the other captives, for that matter? There was no danger in having the other captives awake. But getting them awake while keeping them quiet…that was the challenge. No, it was wiser to only wake Endrick and Grüny for now.
He decided to try the slow, calm approach; gradually draw Grüny out of sleep. He hovered his cupped hand just above Grüny’s open mouth, ready to cap it down at the first sound from it. He hoped he didn’t lose a finger in this bargain.
“Grüny, you have to wake up, but don’t make a sound,” whispered Skylar hurriedly in the man’s ear.
Not a flinch.
“Grüny,” he whispered louder. “Grüny.”
No response.
He shook Grüny’s shoulder.
The old ship captain snorted loudly, then turned onto his side.
Skylar froze, listening nervously to hear if the guard had woken.
Silence.
He took a deep breath and looked over at Kendyl. Endrick was already awake and on his feet. How did she do it so easily? He gestured toward Grüny, then held up his hands as if to say, “What do I do?”
Endrick shook his head, then motioned for Skylar to follow him. Willingly, Skylar abandoned the task up of waking Grüny. It meant, though, that Skylar and Endrick were left on their own to deal with the guard. The two picked their way carefully across the brig floor towards the open bars. Once clear of the sleeping captives, Endrick halted and began removing his tunic. It was made of a course beige fabric. The same fabric as Skylar’s tunic. All the captives wore the same. Itchy and uncomfortable as the tunics were, Skylar didn’t think Endrick simply felt like stripping off his clothes.
As soon as Endrick had his tunic off, he twisted it tight to form a short rope. Then he held the rope up to his mouth and motioned his head towards the guard. Skylar understood. They would use the tunic as a gag. Endrick handed the twisted fabric to Skylar. With a few more gestures, Endrick communicated his intent to seize the guard’s blaster and hold it leveled at him.
If all goes well, Skylar thought, they could take the guard hostage without any resistance. But they couldn’t know what the guard might try. What if he attempts to run? Skylar knew he couldn’t hold the smuggler by himself. Would Endrick shoot? The noise might very well wake the whole ship. He wished Grüny weren’t still asleep.
Though Kendyl had been standing next to them the whole time, Skylar suddenly realized that she might be planning to help them. He couldn’t allow that. He motioned with his hand for her to stay in the brig, safe and out of the way. But Kendyl showed no inclination of heeding him.
“It’s too danger
ous,” he whispered emphatically.
“I don’t care,” she whispered back, “you need help.”
He considered her for a moment. How was she ever here? On her head, she still wore the ugly skull cap that hid her flaming hair. And the shapeless robe still covered her figure. She should not be here.
Skylar shook his head in defeat. They didn’t have time for arguing the matter.
He turned his attention back to the issue of the guard. If there was some way to bind the guard’s legs, they could eliminate his ability to flee and hinder his ability to fight. Perhaps his own tunic could serve as another rope. But even as he considered it, he knew it would be too short. His pants? He wasn’t about to remove those in front of Kendyl.
Skylar lifted one of his legs and made a motion, like he was wrapping an invisible cord around it. Endrick nodded his head and tugged at Skylar’s tunic. Skylar waved back and forth, then tried to sign that he thought it too short.
A tap on Skylar’s shoulder made him turn towards Kendyl. Something dangled from her upheld hand. In the darkness, Skylar failed to decipher what it was. He reached out and took hold of it.
A rope. More than long enough for their needs.
Where did she get that?
Kendyl snatched the rope back out of his hands. Her message was clear. The rope was hers and she intended to use it. Skylar didn’t protest. As much as he hated the idea, he knew that they needed her help.
With a quick motion of his arm, Endrick led them out of the confines of the brig. As they passed through the open jail door, Skylar wondered how Kendyl managed to steal the keycard and open the door without rousing the guard. She must move like a shadow. Even as he thought this, he noticed that he didn’t hear any footfall from behind or the rustle of clothing. Where did she learn to do that?
The guard looked as fast asleep as Grüny, and just as large—if not larger. He sat in a chair, his head cocked over his right shoulder and his hands lightly gripping a blaster on his lap. Asleep as he was, he looked as harmless as a child. Skylar knew that he looked on a slumbering monster, no child. This was one of the smugglers who Skylar particularly disdained. One who always took delight in striking the captives just because it suited his mood. This one would not go down without a fight.
Without bidding, Kendyl went straight to work wrapping the cord around the guard’s legs. She weaved the cord delicately, ever so softly around his boots, ever so softly around the chair legs, until both where well entwined. She held the two ends of the cord in her hands. At a word, she could tighten the cord and tie the two ends together.
The whole while she worked at the rope, Endrick and Skylar stood at the ready. Endrick, poised to wrench the blaster from the guard’s hands. And Skylar poised to gag the guard’s mouth.
Kendyl looked up at Skylar when she was ready. Skylar nodded and looked at Endrick. Then he mouthed the words one...two…three.
It all happened so quickly that it passed in a blur. The guard snapped out of sleep faster than Skylar imagined possible. A cry escaped the smuggler’s mouth before Skylar could place the gag. As Skylar pulled the gag tight, the smuggler lunged for Endrick, who had scarcely grabbed the blaster free.
Skylar held on fast to the ends of the gag. The smuggler’s mass was too much for him. He went tumbling forward, yanked off his feet. Skylar felt like he was trying to tame a wild beast. But as soon as the guard stood, he fell forward, with Skylar crashing down on top of him. Endrick, hit the floor almost the same instant, taken off balance by the guard grabbing his legs. The blaster flew from Endrick’s grasp and clattered to the floor.
Endrick tried kicking his legs free of the smuggler’s grasp. The ruffian held on fast.
Skylar struggled to finish the job of gagging him. Which the guard did all in his power to prevent, without letting go of Endrick. He twisted and contorted his head so violently Skylar feared he would never get the gag tied.
A flash of movement out of the corner of Skylar’s eye made him look up. Kendyl was dashing straight for the blaster. Before the guard realized it, she was already reaching down to pick the weapon from off the floor. Whirling around, Kendyl pointed the weapon directly at the guard.
“Don’t move,” she ordered, “or I’ll shoot.”
She stood, looking more threatening than Skylar believed possible from her. The guard scarcely flinched. In one swift movement, the smuggler let go of Endrick, kicked his legs free of the cord, then swung an arm around and struck Skylar in the face.
The blow stunned Skylar, and for a few moments all he could see were stars. When his vision cleared, he saw the guard charging directly at Kendyl.
Skylar thought he shouted something. In his confusion, he couldn’t be sure.
What he saw, though, he had no doubt about. The guard’s arms went up. Kendyl disappeared behind the smuggler’s massive form. A cry rent the air. The guard’s body struck the floor.
Dead.
Kendyl still stood, blaster in hand, eyes wide, and chest heaving rapidly.
Slowly she turned her gaze to the weapon in her hands, then to the body on the floor. The guard’s chest still smoked from where the blaster fire had struck him. Kendyl let the blaster slip from her hands. It clattered noisily on the steel floor.
Skylar ran over to her.
“Are you alright?” he said, not knowing what else to say.
She didn’t respond. Her face looked ashen. Without warning, she put arms around him.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You couldn’t have done anything else.”
He felt her body shake as she broke into light sobs.
“What the blazes is going on out here,” bellowed a grumpy voice.
Grüny. The noise had finally managed to wake him up.
“While you’ve been snoring, we’ve been taking over the ship,” said Endrick. “If you’re not too tired, come with me. We need to find the ship’s arsenal before the smugglers find us.”
“Wait,” said Kendyl, wiping the tears from her eyes, “the ship has an escape pod. I think it’s large enough for all of us—including the others.”
“Not big enough for this lard vault,” said Endrick, pointing to Grüny.
“Now, wait a minute!” cried Grüny. “Look who’s—”
“It’s more than big enough,” insisted Kendyl. “If we’re fast, we can get to it before the smugglers wake.”
“She’s right,” said Skylar. “Fighting the smugglers will only end in disaster. We need to get away.”
“And what happens when the smugglers wake up and find us and the escape pod missing?” said Grüny. “Those things are designed to be traceable. We have little chance of outrunning this ship if they pursue us. And they will pursue us.”
By this time, two of the other four captives had woken and come out to gawk at the dead guard’s body.
“We’ll have to take that chance,” said Skylar.
“Might as well go lock ourselves back in the brig. We’d be better off. Look, we’ve been traveling for nigh on a week, right? A pathetic escape pod won’t produce half the speed that this ship will. At most, these rogues will catch us in a day and a half.”
Skylar looked about at the companions. Then at Kendyl. Her eyes pleaded for them not to fight. He had no desire to fight, either. But he didn’t see another way. Grüny was right, the escape pod was futile.
“Maybe we don’t have to fight,” said one of the others, whose name was Karb. All eyes turned to the man.
Skylar crouched on the floor and slowly peered one eye around the corner. The long corridor stretched before him, empty and quiet. He turned back to his companions and gave them the all-clear sign. Endrick, Grüny, Karb, and the other three captives nodded in replied, then fanned out into the corridor, their blasters held at the ready. Skylar stayed close to the wall, occasionally turning around to check their rear. Skylar prayed they wouldn’t have to shoot anyone else. Though he longed to see Tanks and his men shut away in prison for t
he rest of their lives, he felt no desire for any needless killing.
At the end of the hall, Endrick checked around the next corner. A second later, he signaled again.
The group repeated the same tactical movement. This time, however, Endrick halted them midway down the corridor, just in front of a portal. It was one Skylar recognized well. It led to the ship’s sleeping quarters for the crewmen, an area of the ship he’d been forced to clean more time than he cared to remember.
The companions all swarmed around the portal, blasters ready. Endrick gave a quick nod, then pressed the portal’s release button. Skylar held his breath. With a blink and a muted hiss, the portal doors slide apart. As many as could thrust the barrel of their blasters into the aperture and scanned the narrow quarters.
Quiet.
Empty.
The companions rapidly filed in, silent, alert.
To anyone inexperienced with space travel, the room would have looked like nothing more than a narrow, empty room. Skylar and his companions knew better. The metal walls were lined with rows of drawers. Long rectangular drawers, which pulled out to reveal compartmented berths. In each of those compartments a smuggler slept soundly, isolated from his shipmates. Nine smugglers remained, including Tanks. Unless some other guard roamed the ship, eight of those bunks must contain a smuggler.
Karb’s plan was simple. They would capture the smugglers one at a time, seizing them even as they slept. One man would slide out the drawer to expose the sleeping smuggler. Four men would latch onto his arms and hands, while a fifth and sixth gagged him and held a blaster to his head. Then they would bind him and lock him in the brig, where Kendyl stood guard. Then they would repeat the procedure for the other smugglers.
Skylar objected to Kendyl’s involvement. Especially after their near miss with the first guard. But she insisted on doing something, even though she was in no emotional state to wield a blaster again. He did admit that her job posed little danger. Still, he worried about her being left down in the lower level of the ship, alone with those scoundrels, no matter that they were behind bars.