I made my cautious way back to the front of the container, trying to get my heart to stop beating so fast. ‘Killed by a shipping container’ was not something I wanted listed on my service record.
There was a huge Eumadian insignia painted right over the front of the crate. Well, no surprises there. I inched closer, gun at the ready, placing every step with the utmost care. Once I was standing right in front of the hatch, I took a good, long look at the locking mechanism. There were no obvious signs of tampering. No scratch marks, no wires, no discolouration. I did another scan with my comm… and this time, it came up with a clear electrical signal. It was weak, but steady. Interesting.
There was a touch screen on the hatch, so I stood to the side and reached over to tap it, before hastily snatching my hand away. The screen lit up in Eumadian symbols, but nothing more sinister than that occurred. I lifted my comm so that it could read the screen, and then the comm projected a holographic page up above my wrist, neatly translating the information into Alliance Common.
Internal Temperature: 18°C
Internal oxygen concentration: 22%
Ventilation: Open
Atmospheric Re-entry Insulation: Intact
Pressure seals: Intact
Cargo: Activated
Condition report: Good
Open Container: Yes/ No?
I stared at the information, trying to make sense of it. A temperature controlled container? What could it possibly contain that needed temperature control? And oxygen? Could it be food? Medical supplies? Biological samples? Hm, no, not likely. The Eumadians were brutish, but they weren’t stupid. If there was anything dangerous in here, it would have had a biohazard warning on it. The battery symbol on the panel looked like it was a bit less than half full. So the container had maybe two days ofpower left. It would take us longer than that to get back to the base. So the choices were to open it now and risk contaminating whatever was inside, or leave it here and lose the cargo anyway when the power fizzed and the internal temperature started climbing. The nights on this part of Rendol 4 were cool, but sitting out in the sun all day, the dark-coloured container would cook whatever was inside it.
Fair enough. I hit the ‘yes’ button on the question asking if I wanted to open the container, then stepped back. A whirring noise signalled the electronic locks disengaging. The panel flashed to green, then went blank. Right, then. No time like the present. With one more wary look over the door seal, I grasped the release handle and twisted. The door swung open silently, revealing a dim and strangely empty interior. This wasn’t an empty crate, was it?
But no. I could just make out a tall figure standing motionless in the dim interior. My hand shot to my gun automatically, and I braced myself for an attack, even as my tired brain scrambled for a reason why a man would be standing alone inside a shipping container.
“Master,” a husky voice breathed.
And it was only then that my useless fucking brain finally remembered what the blue Eumadian insignia emblazoned on the outside of the crate meant.
“Oh, fuck,” I muttered, as my entire body sagged. This day just kept getting worse.
CHAPTER TWO
Kade
The interior of the crate was dark. But it was not cold. It was actually quite comfortable. I stood at parade rest, feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped lightly behind my back. I had been waiting for getting on for three days, ever since the crate had landed with a surprisingly gentle thud and the interior panel had informed me that it was safe to undo the straps of my safety harness.
I had remained ready for the imminent arrival of my master for much of the intervening time. At night, I slept on a thin pallet on the floor. During the day, I diligently rolled it up and stored it neatly in a corner. Twice a day, I ate food from the supplies that had been packed into the storage crate, bolted to the corner of my little cell. There was enough water for another three days, plus a hygiene canister for my waste. But aside from those brief diversions, I simply stood and waited.
I was used to standing. I had learned to stand for long periods during my training. I had learned to do all sorts of things during my training, actually. Walking for hours. Running. Swimming. Climbing. Dancing in the Anicrian style. Dancing in the Polvron style. Cooking food for the Dologals, for the Rentrals, for the Basuba. Understanding the nuances of Fortusian sand art.
And sex. So very, very many things about sex. Judging by the descriptions from the trainers, the rest of the galaxy was thoroughly obsessed with it. And I needed to know how to please a dozen different species, in a dozen different ways.
I had excelled at my training. The trainers had been quick to praise me, impressed with how fast I picked up new skills. I should be proud of my abilities, they told me. But they were always diligent in reminding me that regardless of how impressive my education, in the end, we would not actually need most of the skills we learned. If I was sold to a Basuba, therewas no need to know how to make Rentral food. If I was sold to a Polvron, there was no need to know about Fortusian art. But until I met my master, until I knew which species they were and which world they lived on, I was to learneverything.
On that note, we had been cautioned not to try and show off to our masters, wanting to demonstrate skills that they had no use for. They would tell us what they wanted, and we would do it. My role was not to question; it was to obey.
My heart rate picked up at the sound of slow footsteps from outside the container. Finally! By the stars, my master was here! I realised I had clenched my hands into fists in my excitement, and I deliberately relaxed. My breath hitched as I anticipated the moment when I would finally lay eyes on my new master, and I gritted my teeth to keep the smile off my face. Grinning like an idiot would not give a good first impression. I took a few slow, deep breaths to get my emotions under control.
The footsteps stopped, and I frowned. It was the master, wasn’t it? Disappointment crept in, as I realised it might have been just a wild animal. I didn’t even know what planet I was on at the moment, not having been given even the slightest detail about my master, so I had no way of knowing what animals might be around. The trainers deliberately kept us ignorant, to avoid the risk of us picking and choosing which skills we wanted to learn, or gloating in front of the other dimari about who had been favoured with a better sale. I would find out my master’s identity when I met them, and not a moment before.
The footsteps resumed, and I held my breath as they came closer to the door of the crate. They were here. They were going to claim me. I would have a purpose, and be able to take pride in serving them to the absolute best of my ability, and…
Oh, no, that would not do. My hardening cock was entirely unwelcome, completely inappropriate for a meeting as auspicious as this one. I thought of the ice plunges that the trainers had made us take part in, during winters on Eumad. Though they were an important part of our training, they had nonetheless been brutally cold, and the memory did the job of taming my errant libido. Control and obedience were all that mattered.
Finally, after an interminable wait, the interior panel lit up, briefly proclaiming, ‘Lock release in progress’, before abruptly going blank. The sound of the cooling fans faded out as the power shut off… and then I heard the handle turn. This was it. I was finally going to meet them.
