They didn’t bring the evening meal, which meant they weren’t getting one that night. She tried not to focus on the gnawing pit in her stomach as she followed the pirates’ movements back and forth.
Everyone had gone quiet, waiting, wondering what would happen, knowing collectively that they wouldn’t be fed. Another twelve hours or more would go by before they had a chance at another meal—if they didn’t reach wherever the hell they were going to first.
One of the men turned away from the other and grinned, lifting an electrical rod from his belt to slap in his hand.
Despite the calm facade Elodie was so desperately trying to broadcast, she could feel herself sinking, her veneer cracking. She was on the verge of tears, but even crying would do little to alleviate the ache weighing her down.
Men don’t cry. Goodbyes are nothing.
“Well, pussies and gentlemen, we have two openings in our crew. Had some men who went and got themselves killed. Any takers?”
The question was loaded.
This wasn’t the first time she and the others had gone through a recruitment. Someone would die or get bludgeoned to an inch of their life. It happened every time.
When no one initially spoke, she chanced a look at her dad, hopeful that he would reconsider. But he stood when he caught her eye.
Hope was such a fleeting thing.
“I’ll take one of those slots. Anything has to be better than dying without dinner,” he announced.
Elodie looked at the man in the cell directly across from her, past him, and to the wall. She focused on it as if it would save her life. The guards walked through her line of sight but they passed as shadows, obscured and out of focus.
“We have a taker!” the man with the electrical rod bellowed. Her periphery blurred, the edges growing fuzzy, until there was nothing left but her—her and grey wall. “Ding ding ding ding!” The rod slammed into the metal bars with each syllable.
She heard her dad’s grunt and the shuffle of his feet, undeterred and unwary, followed by the hum of the lock on his cell as it opened.
The sounds filled her ears, her mind, prying with sharpened claws to lift her head up and force her to watch the events taking place.
The wordgoodbyepounded through her skull over and over, monotone and depressing.
How could you?
Her throat constricted. The betrayal was hard for her to stomach.
“What’s your skills, old man?” one of the guards asked.
“Systems, mechanics, the upkeep of the bowels when called for, and resource mining on occasion. I know a half dozen different rig setups and have practice welding in an exosuit.”
You can also speak several languages, tell a good story, and give a decent hug.
“Ah, space fodder, you’re space fucking fodder. That’s okay, it’s okay. Too bad you ain’t a doctor,” Rod-man muttered.
“Or a woman,” said the other.
“I’ll go where you need me,” Chesnik finished, undisturbed.
“You hear that all! He’ll go where he’s needed! Who else wants to join the crew today? Last chance, fuckers.”
The electric rod slammed into the bars again, louder and harder than before. Elodie’s grey wall slipped out of her vision completely as she was jerked back into reality. She lifted her eyes to see her dad shifting glances her way.
His cell door closed with a bang, and for the first time in weeks, it was empty.
“One more, fuckers, who’s it gonna be?” Rod-man ran his eyes over her and moved onto the other prisoners in the cells beyond. His footsteps trailed away and his voice faded as he continued down the line.
For a moment, it was only her, Chesnik, and the quiet guard that held a gun to Chesnik’s side. She sized them up.
The tension between them was stifling, overpowering. A feral spark lit within her that demanded she volunteer too, to derail whatever suicidal plan her dad made and get the guards to open up her cell just so she could attack them, knowing it would cost her her life.
