The slave’s face crumbled into disgust when the hatch of the ship sealed.
“Great gods,” he muttered in Fedeng.
“What?” said Arekan.
“I thought that awful smell came from you,” he said. “It’s all over your clothes. But I see now it’s from the ship.”
Arekan felt a blush creep up his neck. He must have gotten used the stench that first hit him when he walked onto the ship. It embarrassed him to think he carried the stink in his clothes.
“Stop your jabbering, both of you,” snapped Grokin. He sat on one of the crates while he lovingly stroked one of the snakelets.
Arekan snatched the canvas bag back.
“Hey,” protested Grokin.
“Should we not get ready for take-off?” Arekan said.
“That’s right,” crackled the captain over the intercom system. “Grokin, get off that ass of yours and see to it! Thad, bring the new crew member up to the bridge so I can inspect him.”
Video by Starry Night Graphics
This week’s chapter is another of Chuck Wendig’s flash fiction challenge this time titled Ten More Sentences; Round Two. That’s self explanatory. You should be able to read this as a stand alone, but let me know if you can’t. 🙂
TO FORBIDDEN PASSENGERS
In the end, they ran. The group of them, now four, when before they were three, were spotted by one of the slavers as they slipped from the maze of cages that had held their prize. This was the young man they had stolen to conscript as crew on their ship.
The young man they “rescued” stayed close, his legs pumping as hard as theirs under the blazing white sun of a planet who life expectancy was comparatively short. But humans resided on it now, low and crass as this class was, and they only cared about the air, water and sunlight on it. It was a haven in the vastness of a Universe that served up few of the necessities of life.
But right now, Arekan’s and his fellows necessity was to make their ship, board it, and hope to hell that the captain or the pilot could make way before an Oshijian Empire war cruiser could shoot the pirate ship out of the black.
But the run was difficult. It was hot, humid and the air a touch too thin for physical exertion. But more than that the predations of life aboard the pirate ship—his ship, thought Arekan regretfully—took a toll on his body. He gasped for breath as his legs pumped against gravity that was a full half gee above what the captain set for gravity on the ship. And that little economy move, Arekan realized now, weakened his body.
No wonder the others didn’t want to leave the pirate ship.
Dissolute gits. (Click to read more)
Image by Starry Night Graphix
Pain accompanied every movement as Grokin pushed him up the ladder that led to the engine room.
Arekan stared stupidly at the long cylinder of the null space displacement unit that ran through the center of the compartment. Except for a few class tours on his home ship, he’d never seen one. But this piece of equipment as everything else on this tub looked in disrepair. Its paint cracked and peeled along its casing, and the rust brown of corrosion marked the unit’s seams. Arekan grew queasier at witnessing the poor condition of this major aspect of the propulsion system.
The engineer whipped his head toward Arekan and Grokin and frowned. Tinnen was extremely lean and white-haired. A deep scar cut into his cheek running from his ear to his jaw, which deepened with the scowl he gave both men.
“This is who you brought?” said Tinnen incredulously.
Continue Reading–> Chapter Eight~Twice Cursed
Image by Starry Night Graphixs
“You’re a damned idiot,” said a familiar voice. “Seven lashes were more than enough and you struck too deep. Now, he’s out of commission for at least a month. What use is he now, eh? I’ll be paying for his upkeep and getting no work out of him.” Arekan placed the complaining voice as Etharin as he came to consciousness face down in a bunk not his own.
“I’m tired of his attitude. He won’t do a damn thing I tell him.” Grokin said belligerently.
“And what about you, eh? You disobeyed my order. Should I give you ten lashes, eh?”
Arekan thought that was a great idea. He’d love to see Grokin get a slice of his own treatment.
“Sorry, sir,” said Grokin. He didn’t sound penitent but Etharin didn’t seem eager to prove a point.
“You damn well better be sorry,” said Etharin. “We are short men as and he is a good blade. We’d be the ones spaced if it wasn’t for him.”
“Aye, sir,” said Grokin. His voice was rough with reluctant agreement.
“When will he wake, you think?”
Click here to continue or start here at the first chapter
Cover art by Starry Night Graphixs.