She hated these fuckers, every last one of them, but even so she had a momentary feeling of regret at her words. Yes, she hated him, but there were some lines one didn’t cross, even with an enemy. Was this one of them? She wasn’t sure. But it was clear the crew were not only a bunch of murdering, kidnapping brutes, they were also racists. It seemed that sort of asshole existed everywhere in the galaxy.
The bouncing atop the meaty shoulder abruptly stopped and Shalia suddenly found herself flying through the air, landing on her bunk with a thud. Valin scowled at her as he shut her door. The lock cycled. For now at least, she was stuck.
“Well, that’s just fucking great,” she sighed, then lay back on her bed, wondering what fresh hell would come next.
16
Morning came, or at least Shalia thought it was morning. Given that they were aboard an orbiting platform, day and night were decided by whatever clock system the Dohrags were operating under, though it seemed to be pretty comparable to a regular day. While under those circumstances it would have seemed natural to just run shifts twenty-four-seven, apparently the Dohrags didn’t have the same self-destructive work ethic as so many of her Earth bosses.
Given the opportunity,thosesadistic money-grubbing bastards would have gladly had their wage slaves working round the clock while they ate, golfed, and slept with their mistresses. But the Dohrags seemed to work as a unit in that regard. They ate together, worked together, bathed together, and slept together, though not in the figurative sense, at least from what she could tell. Their demeanor seemed to be what she and her friends had called “Heterogressive” back home. A term usually applied to a very particular group of overly macho misogynistic assholes.
Whatever the case happened to be, it didn’t really matter. She was stuck with them and simply had to make the best of what was a very tenuous situation. Once her runes had fully healed, there was no telling what new sort of misery she might face.
“I’ll cross that flaming bridge when I get to it,” she grumbled, rising when the lights in her small quarters brightened.
She sat and waited, the time ticking by slowly as she was left with her thoughts and nothing else. It was kind of nice, not starting the day with a dozen texts and emails waiting for her, though the situation itself was anything but pleasant.
The door finally unlocked and Grallox clomped inside. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her to her feet and out into the corridor.
“Ow!”
“Quiet down. You’re nearly healed,” he said, turning her arm in his hand, examining her markings.
Shalia was ushered to the bathing area and handed a soggy bundle of what looked like scrubbing pads. Pads that hadn’t been properly washed or stored for ages by the look of them.
“Well? Get to work,” Grallox ordered.
Shalia sighed and set to work, doing her best to rinse the scrubbers before she began. Grallox watched her with a lecherous stare, absentmindedly rubbing his crotch when she bent to pick up her supplies.
Fortunately, she was apparently still off-limits, though how much longer that might last she wasn’t exactly sure. After leering at her with ill-intent clear in his gaze, the surly Dohrag finally left her to her work, though the ick factor of his presence lingered long after he was gone.
Shalia shook it off as best she could and set to work scrubbing the whole shower area down. Fortunately, the water didn’t seem to have a high mineral content, so most of the muck was just run-of-the-mill grossness from bathing, not hard water build up. A little elbow grease and she was able to scrub it right out.
Interestingly, her muscles felt good. Strong, even. Whatever the pigments were doing to her, it seemed a bit of added endurance was part of the bargain, and she accepted it gladly. The labor, however, was particularly annoying.
“Why in the world am I scrubbing a shower?” she grumbledaloud. “I mean, how is it these so-called advanced aliens don’t have some kind of robot to do that? Hell, I’m just some woman from Earth, but even I have a damn Roomba to vacuum for me.”
The empty showers remained silent to her query. An answer was not forthcoming.
Nearly an hour later, Shalia was visited by another trooper and directed to her next task.
“What about breakfast?” she asked, her stomach grumbling.
“You’ll eat at lunch. Now move, you have work to do.”
It was laundry, this time, though she had no idea how the machinery worked. That didn’t seem to matter. They were just keeping her busy with things they would normally do themselves, it seemed. As the rule was no prisoners, and especially no women aboard the station, there weren’t really any regular sorts of tasks they would assign someone in her position. The guards had to get creative.
She sorted and folded the clothing that came from the wash system and carried the load back to the barracks area. This part, at least, was automated. The folding was too, but someone had decided to have the woman do it manually instead. Whether it was to keep her busy or was just for their own amusement she didn’t know, but compared to scrubbing on her hands and knees this was a breeze.
Lunch came sooner than she’d expected, the busy work making time pass quickly. She wasn’t given a place at a table, however, and no one was in the mess hall. She soon found out why.
“Cook,” the gruff alien said, shoving her into the kitchen area.
“Cook? Cook what?”
“The next meal period is approaching and our men returning from the surface need sustenance before they unload their cargo. Now, cook.”
Shalia wanted to ask more about the surface team but refrained. The look in the man’s eye was more than enough warning.He was looking for any reason to flex his muscle, and a captive female was a perfect target for him. She wasn’t about to give him a reason to act.
