We learn that we have been captured by creatures called humans and are sealed in a spaceworthy craft. The one called Alek, whofirst spoke to Zann, is a male of the species as are the rest of the crew of this vessel. Alek does what he can to sneak us edible food and clean water, but his help is limited and cannot sustain us long-term. I cannot fault him for it. Though Alek is unchained and on the other side of the bars from us, he is no less a prisoner than we are. The bruises, scars, and cuts that appear on his pale skin are reminiscent of our own. I do not know how or why, but Alek is trapped much as we are. There is no escape from this vessel, except for a quick death in the cold of space.
After a particularly brutal day, I collapse against the bars of our cage. A new collection of rarities – creatures and treasures from a variety of planets – has been loaded onto the ship. Lianov, who is careful to always stay out of reach of me and my brood brothers, is in a rare good mood, but his happiness does not mean better treatment or food. At best, the amount of work to be done means he is more likely to use the whip than the motivators. After all, the pain of the motivators incapacitates us, while the whip merely inflicts pain. Krish collapses beside me, and I tuck his head against my shoulder. My eyes drift closed as I let sleep claim me.
What feels like moments later, I awaken to the sound of alarms. I have heard many sounds and many alarms since our capture, but these alarms are different. Louder. More persistent. And these alarms seem to be echoing throughout the entire ship. “What is happening?” I sign to Zann, but he shakes his head to indicate that he knows no more than I. A moment later, there is a screeching of metal against metal that rocks the ship. We are thrown against the bars of our enclosure and thesounds of shouting echoes from elsewhere. All at once, there is another crash, and everything goes completely dark. There is more shouting and the sounds of weapons being used. In one of the enclosures around us, some of the beasts begin to wail and bellow, adding to the chaos.
Several moments later, a beam of light cuts through the darkness, and a group of figures moves slowly into the cargo area where we are trapped. I hear chattering and glance to Zann again, but he shakes his head. Whatever language they are speaking, it is not something he can understand with the thing they put in his head. Human-like figures move amongst the cages, chattering and shining lights on the cage occupants. I bare my teeth and hiss silently as the bright light passes over my face and moves on swiftly.
The lights come back on, and the figures gesture at the various cages. They seem particularly interested in me and my brood brothers, pausing frequently outside the cage and pointing. I wonder if we have traded one master for another when the cage is unlocked and one of the figures gestures for us to come out. They stand far away with weapons aimed at us, but they do not attack. Instead, we are herded like animals down the hallway and into a part of the ship I have never seen. Our hands and feet are still chained as we are guided down hallways and into a large, open space. I blink as my eyes adjust to the bright light of the space. I recognize the faces of some of our captors and realize with surprise that they are chained and guarded by the newcomers. These newcomers, though they appear to be thesame as or similar species as our human captors, are all outfitted in the same pale gray and dark blue coverings.
And then I hear a painfully familiar sound. My eyes narrow as I spot Lianov. He is sitting at a table chattering angrily at the newcomers who seem to be ignoring him. He wears no chains, though several of the newcomers stand close by. Most importantly, the controller for the motivators, which usually decorates his arm, lies on a different table far out of Lianov’s reach. A thrill of hope and excitement shoots through me, and I am moving before I hear Zann’s warning bark. The newcomers step back in surprise as I leap through the air, and then I am digging my claws into Lianov’s soft flesh and rejoicing in the sound of his screams.
Chapter Three: Corrina
“Commander!” a voice calls from the hallway. I glance towards the doorway where a breathless soldier comes skidding to a halt. “There’s a situation. Or situations. Bad ones. You. You should come.”
I glance at the man across the office from me. He is wringing his scar-covered hands nervously. “Bring him,” I say to the soldier standing behind his chair as I stand to go find out what situation or situations might require my immediate attention.
As I enter the room, the first thing I notice is that several of my soldiers are gathered in a corner looking ill. A few are sitting on the floor with their heads between their knees. A handful of other soldiers are standing over them with their weapons trained on three figures so covered in blood that it is hard to tell who or what they are. It takes me a moment to realize that the shredded lump of flesh and blood smeared across the table and the surrounding floor was probably once a living creature of some kind.
“Oh shit,” says the man I was just questioning. He glances at the scene and turns a faint shade of green. He staggers away from the guard, supports himself with one arm against the wall, and vomits onto the floor. He wipes his mouth shakily, lifts hishead, glances back at the blood-covered figures, and then passes out. I am about to call out to one of the soldiers to get the poor man out of the room when one of the blood-covered figures darts forward, grabs the man, and then retreats back to the gore-splattered table. The creature hisses angrily and lets loose a string of incomprehensible sounds.
“Commander?” my sergeant calls. “Those three who just grabbed that guy also just made confetti out of one of the other prisoners. Do you authorize the use of force?”
“Wait,” I answer, taking a moment to study the scene in front of me as objectively as possible. My observational and analytical skills are what helped me earn this command, but my ability to manage challenging situations have helped me become one of the best at what I do. It is hard to make out the figures under the blood and bits of flesh and organs, but they are not a species that I immediately recognize. There are, however, three things that I can recognize. The first is that these figures are more skin and bone than flesh and muscle. I know of no humanoid species – and they do appear somewhat humanoid – with bones as prominent as theirs when healthy. Second, their hands and feet are chained with something far stronger and bulkier than standard IPC-issue restraints like the ones we use, which means these creatures were likely captives of the illegal poaching crew we just raided. And third, despite the apparent violence with which they attacked whatever poor creature’s remains they are crouched in, the one holding the man I was about to question is doing so gently – supporting the man’s head and cradling his body to its own. Furthermore, the one cradling the manhas clearly put the other two figures between us and it. In my mind, all of this adds up an isolated, and perhaps justified (at least to them), act of violence and not necessarily the actions of creatures of a broadly violent nature.
“Commander?” my sergeant says again.
“Let’s clear the room,” I reply.
“Ma’am?”
“Clear the room, Sergeant Curran. I appreciate the restraint that our soldiers have shown thus far, but I want every one of our people out of here except for you and me.”
The fact that he doesn’t question my order for a second is one of the many reasons Curran is my second-in-command.
“Clear the room,” he bellows, and soldiers move to obey. A few of them are shaky as they stand and a few require the assistance of their fellow soldiers but in moments the room is clear. Curran stands to my right, his weapon holstered with his hand resting on it casually. “Now what?” he mutters to me.
“Gimme a minute,” I reply quietly. The figures and I stare at each other for a long moment. I get the feeling that I am being studied just as intently as I am studying them. “I want a medical assessment team down here as soon as possible,” I state. “And bring something to eat and drink.”
“Anything in particular you’re in the mood for?” Curran asks sarcastically.
“Bring me an assortment of foods. Stuff I can eat that might also be palatable for the three of them.”
“Check. Anything else?”
“Bring me Captain Lianov. I’ll be interested in what information our favorite neighborhood poacher might have on these three.”
Curran pauses. He steps into the hallway and confers quickly with one of the soldiers. He is frowning when he steps back beside me. “That last request is going to be a problem. Captain Lianov is no longer available.”
“What the fuck do you mean ‘no longer available’?” I hiss, turning to glare at Curran. “I was told we had secured his capture. That was the main reason we’ve monitored this vessel for weeks and struck when we did – to finally get a hold of the slippery bastard when he’d taken on a recent shipment and was out of reach of his usual money and connections. Don’t tell me he’s already slimed his way out of this.”
“We had secured his safe capture, and we made sure he was not able to contact anyone off ship. Unfortunately, our new friends were less concerned about the captain’s safety than you were.”
I blink at my sergeant for a moment, uncomprehending. Then I glance towards the gore splattered around the trio of unknown creatures. “Please tell me you aren’t saying what I think you’re saying.”
“Sorry, Commander. Those three are standing in what is left of the late Captain Lianov.”
“Shit.” I mutter.
