Chapter 17 – Kaster Wakes

slavery, no sex, sci-fi

Kaster forced himself to wake.
Through the haze of drugs, he made himself focus and slowly opened his eyes. With effort, he turned his head, noting his surroundings. He was not lying on the autodoc table or in a room on his ship. The mint green walls of the small room and the biomonitors hinted that he was in a sick bay. It was not his, though.
He rolled to his side, and something tugged on his arm. Returning to his back, he tried to lift his arms but could not. One of them would not lift. The other… was a stump, cleanly sliced through his bicep. Looking down at his right arm, he was relieved to see it was still there but manacled to a handle on the side of the hospital bed he was in.
Closing his eyes, he focused on his kidneys and liver, forcing his body to clean his drug-tainted blood. His tongue felt thick and slow. He licked dry lips. He continued focusing on cleaning his system, making his organs function at a much higher level than usual. Given enough time, he could flush the poisons out of his system. He just wasn’t sure how much time he had. He avoided overthinking the missing arm, instead breathing slowly, clearly, and cleanly.
Still with eyes closed, still forcing his organs to work faster than intended, Kaster listened. There was a thrum, the faint rumble of engines, the hollow thrum of air pumped through enclosed rooms, and a faint hiss of fluids passing through pipes. He knew he was on a ship, one larger than his own.
A door whisked open. Kaster saw a stranger standing in the doorway. The stranger looked shocked, glancing out of the room and then looking back at Kaster.
“Where am I?” Kaster asked, his throat hoarse and dry.
The stranger was an older Human with dark hair going to salt. He wore a white tunic with a medical symbol. It wasn’t quite a uniform, but maybe something borrowed from a uniform.
“You shouldn’t be up. You need rest.” The medic walked across the room and fumbled with a drawer. He passed a card key over the lock and then pulled it open. He withdrew a hypo-gun and continued rummaging through the drawer.
Kaster couldn’t risk more drugs. He squeezed the fingers of his hand together, trying to make it as narrow as possible. He tugged on his arm, but the manacle would not yield. Another tug confirmed it was tight enough to prevent his wrist from passing through. Pressing his hand on the bed frame, he put pressure on the base of his thumb. He felt something pop and knew he’d dislocated his wrist. The drugs helped dull the pain.
As the medic produced a vial of liquid and screwed it into the gun, Kaster slipped his hand through the manacle. He pressed the thumb against the rigid frame of the bed and felt it pop back into place. Wincing, he sat up.
The medic advanced on Kaster, “Hey! Lie back and relax. I’ve got another dose for you. I just need you to…”
As the medic approached, Kaster’s hand flashed out faster than could be seen, snatching the hypo gun out of the stranger’s hand. He leaned forward and shoved his stump at the medic, stopping him in his tracks.
“No. No more drugs. I want your captain.”
The medic blinked. He then tried to reach around Kaster for the hypo. Kaster gave him a shove with the stump, sending the medic stumbling backward.
“Get your captain now, or I will beat you to death with nothing more than this stump.”
Backing up, the medic nodded and exited the room quickly.
Kaster forced himself off the bed. The cold floor chilled his bare feet. A quick self-examination revealed that Kaster only wore the loose-fitting harem pants he’d been in when he went to the temple. There was a dark stain on the left side, probably blood, when his arm was severed. He’d lost his arm… it was too soon to think about that. He forced it to the back of his mind.
Glancing around the room, Kaster saw nothing that would be an effective weapon. There was a rolling stool, the hospital gurney, and shelved cabinets. The only thing even close to an armament was the hypo, filled with what he assumed were anesthetics. He sat on the stool, turned to face the door, and tucked the hypo into the waist of his pants at the small of his back.
He breathed, focused on his kidneys, and meditated the minutes away. With each moment, his thoughts became sharper and more focused, while his tongue got even thicker with thirst.
The door opened, and a tall, thick-skinned sentient strode in. Kaster looked up across his brow, his head too heavy to lift completely. A Xuriant crossed the room, hooked the wheeled medical stool with one foot, and then sat on it quickly. He eyed Kaster through dark irises.
Kaster couldn’t recall much about Xuriants, except that after ejaculation, they would remain buried in their mating partner to ensure another suitor did not replace their own potential progeny. Kaster thought it amusing that the only thing he could recall about his potential foe was a factoid read offhandedly by a snickering adolescent. The Being’s demeanor told Kaster everything he needed to know. This was the captain of the ship he was now on. The blaster strapped to his hip was also a sure-fire sign of authority.
“You’re the captain?” Kaster said more than asked.
“That I am.”
“Why was I moved off my ship?”
“An old friend called in a favor, asked that you be taken a place for healing.” The Xuriant nodded to the stump, “I’ve arranged for a replacement for that.”
There was an edge of tension in Xuriant’s voice. He was being civil, but his right hand lingered oh so close to the holstered blaster. He wanted to use it badly. Kaster already knew this conversation would end in bloodshed. He played it as cool as possible. “And my crew?”
“The slave, you mean?” The Xuriant said. Kaster understood that in Federated Space, slavery was illegal. The Xuriant captain was explaining without saying so, and he knew more than Kaster might think he did.
“Her name is K’rra.” Kaster slurred; his dry tongue couldn’t trill the R’s correctly.
“Don’t worry about her. I’ve been taking good care of her.” The captain’s hand twitched a millimeter closer to his sidearm.
Kaster looked the captain in the eye. A moment passed, then he said, “She is what she is.”
The Xuriant relaxed. He’d tested Kaster and tried to goad him to violence. He puffed his chest, concluding that Kaster wasn’t man enough to defend his property. “Aye, that she is. And I’d like to buy the girl.”
“She’s not for sale.”
The captain laughed and threw his arms out, “My price, you haven’t even heard yet. Are you so sure she is just… what she is? Me thinks maybe she is more than that now, no?”
Kaster felt his heartbeat quicken. His refusal had cemented that this conversation would only have one outcome: violence. “She was a gift from my patron.”
“I see… so the girl does have sentimental value to you then?”
“It would be an insult to Hol Vydon if I gave…”
The Xuriant laughed heartily, cutting off Kaster’s thoughts. “Stop, please, you joke. Vydon is a businessman. His feelings sold many cycles of many suns ago. He asked me for a favor, but it is unpaid. My services, too, come with a price.”
“She is not for sale.”
The Xuriant leaned in and sneered. “You are crippled, alone, helpless. You could hear my price, but you’d rather die for this slave girl?”
Kaster gave the captain a cold look, then nodded, “What makes you think it’ll be me?”
*****
Pacing in the confines of the padded room, K’rra jumped when she heard the blaster shot. The sound itself was muted, dampened by dozens of walls and the running machinery of a starship. She knew what it meant, though, and rushed to the door. She slammed the controls, but the door would not yield, leaving her alone in the padded captain's room, now an impromptu cell.
She pressed an ear to the door but heard nothing unusual. After long moments that dragged agonizingly slow, she forced herself away from the door and began pacing again. Minutes later, a clatter of metal on metal. She went to the door again but heard nothing else. She went back to pacing.
There were indistinguishable shouts and yells, along with more blaster fire. Kaster was alive. If only for a moment. She raced to the door, pressing her face to it and willing him to enter. She imagined him striding in, cocky, stupid with youth, and all too sure of himself. He’d sweep her up on one arm and carry her back to his ship, where they’d make their escape. She tightened every muscle in her tummy around this wish and begged it to come true. Instead, there was more yelling, more gunshots, and more clatter of metal on metal.
She pushed herself away from the door a third time and moved to the center of the room. What happened out there would not change what she was: a slave. She forced herself down to her knees, spread her legs, and placed her hands palm up on the open thighs. A calmness descended, but it was short-lived. Every time she heard screaming or blaster fire, she tensed up, ruining the calm her slave position gave her. With her eyes winced shut, she begged that whatever master claimed her would find her worth keeping.
Her hands trembled on her thighs as she willed her mind blank. The universe was cruel and had never delivered on her wants. She wanted to be more successful in school but had always been in the bottom percentiles. She’d wanted to follow in her parents’ footsteps. Instead of academia, she’d been railroaded into the Federated Navy. She wanted to be able to serve one who appreciated her skills and devotion; instead, she’d been traded away like a bauble. She angrily forced her mind clear of hope.
The door opened. She winced her eyes, keeping them closed for fear the universe would steal everything away again.
“There you are…” Kaster croaked.
Through a painful haze of tears, K’rra leaped up and rushed him. He leaned weak and in pain against the doorframe, unable to stop her as she drove into him. They crashed, arms and legs tangled onto the floor of the hallway. His arms wrapped around her as she landed atop of him, stealing any breath he had away with her smothering mouth. She pressed her chest to his, wanting to become one flesh with him.
“Did they hurt you?” He asked through clenched teeth.
She held him tight, not wanting to let go. “I’m fine. I’m fine. You’re still alive… I feared…”
“Not yet,” He choked, “But soon if we don’t leave.”
Pulling back, K’rra saw Kaster’s bare torso, bruised, battered, and burned. His right arm and shoulder were badly bruised. His chest was purple with bruises as well, with a patch of rough, burned skin along the left side. And his left arm was just as she’d last seen it. Beside him on the floor was a metal rod, a handhold for weightlessness that had been pulled off some wall; the end of it was covered in blood.
“Stars! We need to tend to these injuries.” K’rra said, trying to ease him back down to the floor.
“No,” he demanded, “we need to leave now. There are still hostile crew on this ship.”
Tendrils of fear seeped up from the pit of K’rra’s stomach. All that noise, all that commotion, and there were still hostiles on board? She looked up and down the hallway, afraid that beings with blasters would rush around the corners. She took Kaster by his arm and pulled, standing as she did so. He struggled but managed to get to his feet. He leaned heavily against the wall.
Kaster pointed down to his makeshift weapon. K’rra bent, then lifted the handhold and turned it into an improvised club. She surrendered it to him, noting that he was wearing nothing but the hakama pants he’d fought the furies in, while she wore nothing but the dried spunk the Xuriant had left on her during their tryst.
Tucking herself under the stump of his arm, K’rra helped Kaster limp along the hallway. He seemed to know the layout of the pirate ship, guiding them down passageways with no hesitation. After the second turn, K’rra saw two bodies crumpled in the hallway. One moaned softly. The other seemed to be breathing, but there was a pool of blood collecting under his face. She turned her attention to Kaster, hoping he would not try to fight more pirates with her so close to him.
They passed more bodies, and K’rra meant to look away. A dropped blaster lay within hand’s reach of one of the downed pirates.
“Wait,” K’rra said as she pushed Kaster against a wall. Once his weight was off her, she swept up the blaster only to cry out in agony and fall to her knees.
“Leave it,” he said. “I don’t need a gun.”
“But I can use it. I was trained.”
Kaster considered this a moment, then said, “Slave K’rra, your weapons restrictions are lifted.”
She understood in an instant. He’d removed the programming in the implants, allowing her to pick up a weapon. He trusted her enough to allow her to pick up something that could jeopardize his life. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss the life out of him. Instead, she honored his wishes and picked up the blaster again.
Using her as a crutch, they began traveling again. K’rra found it awkward to hold the blaster in her left hand and needed the right to clutch her master. They hobbled along, passing more bodies, scorch marks in the hallway from missed shots, and at least one pirate who scrambled away, nursing a broken arm.
When they reached the Outlander, she wanted to cry. They traversed the inflatable umbilical as voices gathered deeper inside the pirate ship. Once aboard their vessel, K’rra hit the controls for the airlock, shutting their ship off from the other. She worked frantically at the door controls and released the umbilical, separating the two vessels.
Kaster had attempted to move to the cockpit while she disengaged the ship, resulting in his falling to his knees. He dropped the handhold and leaned against a bulkhead, watching K’rra work.
“Lie down and relax, I’ll be back in a moment,” she told him as she went past.
He tried to say something but slumped to the deck.
Once in the cockpit, K’rra powered up the engines and eased the Outlander away from the pirates. There were some tense moments as the two ships moved away from each other. She wondered if they would fire on the smaller ship she and Kaster occupied. The distance grew more extensive, and once the pirate ship was nothing more than a blip on a scanner, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Excitement and adventure were what she’d been promised when joining the Federated Navy. She’d trade the galaxy away right now for a cozy couch, a warm blanket, and the safety of her home world.
When she returned to the airlock, Kaster was lying on his side, fast asleep. K’rra tried pulling him up, but he was nearly twice her weight. She considered slumping down next to him, but went to his room and returned with pillows and blankets. She tried tucking the blanket around him as best as possible, then curled up against him and pulled his arm around her.
“Lights, dim.” She told the ship. It responded by darkening the rooms.
They were hurt, crippled, naked, and drifting through an unknown system. Knowing her master was safe, however, let her relax into slumber. All these hurdles could be solved tomorrow.