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Introduction:

After an intense session, Cait and Rhys come face to face with their pirsuer

As Cait entered the bridge after hastily wiping herself down and pulling her shorts and singlet back on, Rhys was hunched over the comms console arguing with someone.

“You said I had six hours!”

“I lied, Nichols.” It was unmistakeably the voice of Montague, the captain of the pirate vessel that had hailed them earlier. “I don’t know why you’re shocked, or what difference it makes. Maintain course while we approach and dock. And I remind you, this ship is armed.”

Rhys cut the transmission and turned to Cait, anger written across his face. The sensor screen had pulled up a profile of the Erebus: it was a sleek vessel, not dissimilar in design to the crablike appearance of the Chariot, but had more powerful engines and was clearly built for speed. The sensor detected several apertures which were likely missile launchers and at least one protrusion that was probably a flak cannon, but it was the computer’s best guess based on a Doppler-rendering of the shape that was now just minutes away from docking with them.

“No wonder the sensors didn’t tell us when it was within range, look at that sleek profile.” Rhys spat. “It’s like looking at a knife edge on compared to most objects.”

“How many crew, do you think?”

“I’m guessing they’ve got room for ten but are probably carrying fewer if they’re expecting prisoners. I assume two of them will take over the ship.” Rhys looked at Cait helplessly, looking like she felt.

“What now?” Cait asked.

“I guess we wait.” Rhys shrugged. “Unless you’ve rethought putting up a fight.”

“I haven’t. It’s not like we have weapons.” Cait said, drifting over to her seat. “Company policy in the event of a hijacking is to cooperate, they’re insured for ransom. That seemed reassuring… but now…”

“Well your dad is a pretty good insurance policy, assuming Fleet comes looking for us.”

“Rhys, make sure you don’t mention that. If they know Fleet is looking for them, it could create an issue, and might put us both in danger.”

“I won’t.”

“Swear to me.”

“I swear.”

“And don’t let them know we’ve been involved.” Cait sighed. “They’ll only use that information against us both.”

“I won’t let them hurt you.” Rhys said bitterly.

“Rhys you’re not going to have much of a choice. Don’t be a hero. Our objective is survival.”

Before Rhys could respond the proximity alarm triggered again and there was a bump of turbulence followed my metallic scraping somewhere above.”

“Docking clamps. They’ll be coming in through the top hatch.” Rhys commented. He moved over to the captain’s chair and buckled in, while Cait buckled into her own station. They stared at each other, resigned to just wait, when the comms lit up again. Cait answered.

“Chariot, we are about to board.” Came an unfamiliar voice. “We are armed. This is your final warning not to attempt resistance. Wait for us on the bridge.”

Off in the distance there was the hiss of equalising pressure as the hatch opened and met theirs, then the airlock cycling. Before long, three armed men in pseudo-military uniforms entered gracelessly in th Wait for us on the bridge.”

Off in the distance there was the hiss of equalising pressure as the hatch opened and met theirs, then the airlock cycling. Before long, three armed men in pseudo-military uniforms and masks entered gracelessly in the zero-G, two of them awkwardly holding small pistols. Cait inhaled sharply as the weapons passed over her as the holders scanned the bridge. The unarmed man, apparently the leader glanced from her to Rhys.

“Does this thing have gravity?”

“No.” Cait answered, playing the role of engineer. “The old systems were power inefficient and stripped out.”

The man looked to Cait then back to Rhys.

“Nichols, you informed us that you were alone on the ship.”

“I lied.” Rhys admitted, as if there were any alternative.

“Any other surprises we should be aware of?”

“No. It’s just us.”

The unarmed man moved aside and gestured for the armed men to take Rhys and Cait. The men moved into position and unbuckled their restraints, pulling them out of the chairs.

“Continue to cooperate and this will go very smoothly.” The leader said plainly. “Don’t get any funny ideas, you’re outmanned and outgunned.”

“Can we collect our things? Clothes, personal items?”

“We’ll decide what you can have when we’ve had an opportunity to screen this ship thoroughly.” The man responded curtly before making another gesture for them to be taken away.

Cait and Rhys were led down the corridor away from the bridge and into a side passage that led to a ladder that would take them to the upper hatch airlock. Cait used her hands on the rungs to propel herself upwards into the airlock where who other men were waiting. They didn’t appear to be armed and she assumed they were the new crew of Cait’s Chariot, who entered down into the ship once it was signalled they were clear to do so. The men kept their guns trained on Cait and Rhys as the airlock cycled and matched pressure with the Erebus.

“Use the ladder.” One of the armed men grunted.

Obeying his instruction, though confused by it, Cait pulled herself up by the ladder then almost slipped and fell as she transitioned into the other ship’s gravity. After weeks in space it took her a moment to recognise why she was so disoriented: the Erebus had gravity, and she was suddenly forced to carry her own bodyweight. Although she did try to regularly exercise and their food was specifically formulated to prevent muscle wastage, she nonetheless had a momentary struggle as she pulled herself into the airlock of the other ship and steadied herself against the wall as Rhys followed up behind her. It was not unlike the transition between stepping off a boat onto dry land after a long cruise, and she felt jelly legged and dizzy as her inner ear adjusted. She noticed Rhys seemed to be having some difficulties too, though he made more of an effort to hide it – or maybe as the more experienced spacer, he was just used to it.

After their captors came up behind them they were led out of the airlock into what seemed to be a passenger bay – not unlike a military style dropship, there were seats against the walls and lockers for all kinds of gear. In the centre of the room waiting patiently was a man who had to be their commander, Montague. His uniform was identical to those of his men, but his bearing was militaristic, and even standing patiently to await them there was an undefinable gravitas. He was strongly built and likely past middle age. His face was creased with a few age lines and his dark hair was streaked through with grey.

“Welcome to the Erebus. I am captain Douglas Montague.” He glanced from Cait to Rhys then back to Cait, giving her an appraising glance. “You must be Cait.”

Cait remained silent. Though her first impulse was to ask how he already knew that, realisation dawned quickly: Cait’s Chariot. The owner of Chariot Freight always named the vessel after the new captain before it left the dockyards. It was obvious, common knowledge for anyone who gave it a moment’s thought, though most people didn’t. Montague would have known from the outset that Rhys was not the real captain of the ship.

Montague must have surmised that Cait’s silence meant she had already reached the conclusion of how he knew her name and did not bother explaining it, apparently not the type of person to gloat over pedestrian accomplishments.

“Do you have a last name, Cait?”

“Avery.” Cait admitted. She knew their search of the ship would turn up a dozen different sources for her real name, and attempting to lie about it would only give them the impression that it was valuable information. There were a lot of Averys in the galaxy and it was unlikely they’d guess at her connection to her father the Fleet general.

“Cait Avery.” Montague repeated, with some degree of satisfaction as he approached her, raising a hand to caress her cheek. “And why did your partner Nichols feel the need to try and conceal your existence from me?”

“To put it bluntly, we don’t really expect pirates to be civilised.” Cait said, raising her chin defiantly, challenging him to prove her wrong.

“A fair assessment.” Montague conceded, without any hesitation. “I will admit we don’t see many women out here between worlds, the men will be… fascinated.”

Montague began to run his hand down the side of her neck and traced his fingertips down her chest. Cait gritted her teeth, assuming he was just trying to test her, taunt her, and that she should not give him any excuse to hurt her, but without fully realising she was doing so, she lashed out. Her right hand had balled itself into a tight fist and out of nowhere the metal limb flew up from her side and blindsided Montague, the fist colliding solidly with his cheekbone with a satisfying thud. Montague was laid out, taken off his feet and crashed against the wall, crumbling to the floor.

Taking this as a cue, Rhys immediately reached out to punch one of the armed men flanking him and was immediately pistol-whipped by the other man, slumping to the floor was well, apparently unconscious. By the time Cait had turned to face them both men already had their guns trained on her and she knew one wrong move would be fatal. She raised her hands in surrender as she heard Montague picking himself up from the floor.

“Oh, Cait.” Montague chided her, moving into her field of vision. His cheek was bloody, the skin split on his cheekbone where her metal knuckles had landed. “I was never a fan of doing things the hard way. We are going to have to do something about your pride.”

“I’m sorry.” Cait said, sincerely. “It was just a reflex.”

“Oh? So you had no control over your actions?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “We can’t have that. Simmons.”

Cait wondered briefly who Simmons was but one of the men holstered his weapon and stepped forward, the other still aiming at her.

“Sir.” Simmons answered.

“Multitool, please.”

Simmons took a multitool from his belt and handed it over to Montague. It was a collection of tools in one unit, not unlike a swiss army knife but heavier duty. It had a collection of adjustable wrench and screw heads and could be customised. High end models even had motorised functions and power cells, though this one appears quite basic as Montague flicked through the heads until he found what he was looking for.

“Simmons, take her.”

Simmons stepped behind Cait and took her by the wrists, pulling her arms down into position as if he were going to handcuff her. She resisted but even with the slightly augmented strength, he had the leverage to hold her.

“What are you doing?” Cait protested.

“Only what is necessary.” Montague inserted the tool into an area near the top of her left prosthetic and Cait screamed as a searing jolt of pain ran through her, as if someone was holding a taser to her skin. After a few seconds she felt and heard the prosthetic’s clamps disengage from the sockets implanted into her arm and the metal device clattered to the deck. As the pain left her body so did a sob escape her as she looked down at the scarred stump of her left arm with the bare implant sockets, her arm lying on the deck.

“Please.” She begged, looking at Montague. “Please don’t.”

Montague didn’t answer. She renewed her struggle, trying to wrench her right arm free of Simmon’s grip but he placed his left hand on the back of her neck and squeezed, bending her forward to reduce her leverage as Montague inserted the tool into her right prosthetic. The pain, if anything, was worse this time. She tried to restrain her scream but couldn’t, and she collapsed on the deck in a heap as she was relieved of her right arm as well, tears rolling down her cheeks. After letting her wallow miserably for a minute, Montague gave Simmons a new instruction.

“Bring her up here.”

Simmons took her under her armpits and pulled her back to her feet, holding her in place.

“Now to deal with the issue of your pride.” Montague said cruelly, as if taking her arms were only a precautionary measure for his own protection. He gripped the bottom of her singlet and drew a blade from the multitool up her torso, splitting through the toughened material in one swift motion from hem to neckline so that the garment hung on her like curtains, barely consealing her sizeable breasts. She waited for Montague to relieve her of it entirely but he didn’t, instead putting the blade away and sliding the tool back into Simmons’ belt.

“I am sure you have a great many regrets at this moment, Cait.” Montague stroked her cheek again. “I strongly recommend against accumulating more of them.”

She wanted to scream, she wanted to split in his face and kick in in the crotch, but as her head drooped and she saw her arms lying on the deck, the fight went out of her. The hope of rescue, already quite abstract, fled from her.

“Good.” Montague said when Cait did not react to his prompt. “Simmons, Docker, strap our guests in for the rest of the journey back to base.”

With that he turned on his heal and strode out of the room while Simmons pushed her into a seat and buckled her into the restraints as Docker hoisted a still unconscious Rhys into a seat and buckled him in as well. Cait looked over at Rhys who seemed to be just coming to. He thrashed in his seat for a moment until realising he was strapped in and the two armed men across from him were very alert and pointing their weapons at him. His head snapped over to Cait and he assessed her situation.

“Cait, what happened? How long was I out?”

“Only a minute or two.” Cait said sombrely. “Long enough.”

“What did he do to you?”

Cait didn’t bother to answer, she thought the answer to that was plain enough and it wasn’t a conversation she felt like having in front of their captors. She simply sagged in her seat, her head drooped onto her chest. Taking the hint, Rhys stopped asking questions of her and directed his attention to Simmons and Docker.

“Where are you taking us?”

“Shut up.” Docker answered.

“What are you going to do with us?”

“Shut up.” Docker repeated.

“Aren’t you going to tell us anything?” Rhys demanded.

“No.” Simmons answered before Docker could tell him to shut up again. “Anything you need to know, you’ll be told.”

“You can’t just keep us in the dark.”

“Look at it this way, Nichols, what difference would knowing make?” Simmons said smugly before settling back into his chair, his gun casually aimed in Rhys’ direction.

And here in a windowless vessel in interplanetary space, being held captive by armed space pirates, Cait had to admit he had a point.

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