“But why all gay dudes?” Gary asked suddenly.
Fred looked at us sadly. “That’s just this shipment. Different shipments, different purposes. The captain gleefully told me that they often took males of any orientation to work in mines.”
None of us wanted to hear any more after that.
It was after they brought us our next meal several hours later that another change in our routine happened.
“What was that?” Mary screamed as the ship suddenly lurched without the light speed jump warning.
The lights began flashing red, then green, then blue, as an urgent voice spoke in a rapid fire series of clicks, chitters, and chirps.
Fred’s face lost all color. “Apparently, we’re under attack. Seems like they caught the attention of some pirates.”
I hadn’t thought things could get any worse, but pirates? Any alien ruthless enough to try to knock holes into another vessel obviously was not caring much about the living beings on board, which included us.
The ship rocked again, then a loud whine sounded.
“Sounds like they are fighting back,” Fred told us.
We hunkered down in a corner away from the boxes, not wanting to get tossed around during the battle. It didn’t last long.
“Okay, it sounds like he’s saying they got in a lucky hit and the other ship has lost engines. But um, we’re losing atmosphere in some parts of the ship and our engines are also damaged, so they’re going to set down somewhere for quick repair.”
“Think they’ll have to sell us off early to pay for parts?” Carol asked.
Fred and I both shrugged. ”Does it really matter?” I asked. “We’re going to be sold no matter what. Whether it's to one auction house or another, we’re still getting sold.”
“But what they are selling us for might be different,” Beth pointed out.
And now we were all thinking back to the cattle market theory. Or at least I was.
“Or decide to keep some of us and sell the rest,” Carol shivered.
Fred looked at each of us, his expression the same resignation as the rest of us. “We’re fucked seven ways to Sunday no matter what. Slavers are evil people, so there’s no positive outcome any way we slice it.”
Silence fell over our group, each of us alone in our thoughts as different scenarios played out in our imaginations. The noises from the fight ceased, but the alarms kept blaring. Fred merely pursed his lips and shook his head when asked what was being said, as it sounded different than before, maybe. It was hard to tell. In any case, when Beth finally spoke up to ask, Sam’s watch said it was fifteen minutes short of seven hours from when fighting seemed to end and the alarms stopped. Then a new announcement came on, and Fred’s face turned ashen.
“It says to brace for an ‘awkward landing’!” he shouted as we felt the ship’s engines slow. We hurriedly scrambled to obey, clutching the trough and each other as best we could, because there wasn’t anything else. It quickly became apparent that ‘awkward landing’ was putting it mildly. This was a barely controlled descent. The engines whined as the ship was buffeted about and the hold we were in became almost unbearably hot. Then there was a sickening feeling of free fall as the engines cut altogether.
“Shit - I think we’re gonna crash!” Fred shouted as a voice came over the loudspeaker, screaming in terror as it yelled out instructions. An almighty thump sent us and the boxes careening around the space, accompanied by a horrific screeching sound. The voice fell silent, and once the ship came to a standstill, I knew one thing. I fucking hurt all over, even worse than I had before. I was pretty sure I had a concussion and my left leg was screaming in agony, as was my right wrist, though my leg at least did not appear to actually be broken when I tested it.. As I struggled to stand up, I looked about, grateful to be alive but unsure how long that could last once rescuers saw how damaged the merchandise was.
“Ohhh, add whiplash to the list,” I winced, grabbing the back of my neck with my less painful arm. “Everybody okay?”
“I think I broke my arm and my nose, and hurt my knee, but surprisingly enough, other than that, I think I’m okay,” said Fred’s voice in wonder.
“I’m good, but I think I broke my leg and dislocated my shoulder,” came Beth’s voice.
“I’m alive,” Patrick said, shuffling over. “Don’t ask me how, but I’m just really bruised all over.”
“I hurt my back, but I don’t think it’s broken. Smashed my hand against one of the crates though, and my fingers look all jacked up,” Gary called out, appearing from behind another pile of fallen boxes.
No one else spoke. “Sam? Carol? Anne?” I called out, my voice breaking. I staggered to my feet and we began moving to where we saw them lying.
“Anne’s neck is broken,” Patrick said. “I think she died on impact.”
Beth began sobbing.
“Carol and Sam are unconscious but breathing okay. I think they’ll be alright if they wake up. Sam’s arm looks broken, though.”
